Hunter, Interrupted
by Supervillegirl
Summary: The Winchesters' latest hunt begins hunting one of them. But what happens when solving the case doesn't solve the problem?
1. Chapter 1

"Hunter, Interrupted"

Set after 5.01 "Sympathy for the Devil"

Chapter One

"Alright, so tell me about this case," said Dean from the driver's seat of his Impala.

Sam grabbed his stack of papers, shuffling through them. "Five people over the past week in Nashville have been admitted to mental hospitals. Doctors are baffled as to why they suddenly went crazy."

"So, what, we got a brain-stealing psycho on our hands?" asked Dean.

"Not sure," said Sam. "I cross-referenced with the local obits and found one that might be our guy."

"A ghost?"

"Yeah. Dr. Roger Maxfield: a psychiatrist who died of a gunshot when someone tried to mug him. First patient was admitted the next day."

"Good enough for me. How far?"

"Uh…about three hundred miles."

"Hey, think we can visit Graceland while we're there?"

Sam glared at his brother. "No."

Dean looked back at the road. "Fine, buzzkill."

* * *

"Which one is this?" asked Dean.

"Matt Treler," Sam told him as they headed into the hospital. "He was the third one admitted."

They approached the front desk, dressed in suits. The secretary glanced up at them.

"Hello," said Dean as they flashed their badges. "Detectives Ackles and Padalecki. We need to speak with the doctor working the Treler case."

"One moment," she told them.

Sam looked at Dean, his voice lowered. "Ackles and Padalecki?"

"They're these, like, actors, or something," Dean told him. "I read their names on the Internet."

The secretary picked up the phone on her desk. Her voice came over the speakers. "Dr. Winchester, please report to the front desk."

Sam and Dean looked at each other after they thanked the woman.

"Winchester?" said Sam. "That's weird."

A moment later, a middle-aged, blonde man in a white coat came through the door. "Hello, I'm Dr. Winchester."

"Like the rifle, huh?" said Dean.

He nodded. "Like the rifle."

"We're with the CDC," said Dean. "We need to discuss Matt Treler's case."

"And the others, I'm assuming," said Dr. Winchester. "They're all in my care here."

"Was there any indications that this was going to happen?" asked Sam.

"No, none," said Dr. Winchester. "They were perfectly fine, seemed to be in perfect mental and emotional health. Maybe a little stressed, but no more so than anyone else would be. Then one day, they just changed."

"Changed how?" asked Dean.

"Well…they just sit there," explained the doctor. "They hardly interact with anyone. Most of the time, they stare at you with this intense fascination, as if they've never seen another human being before. They can hardly do anything for themselves."

"Can we see them?" asked Sam.

"I would prefer not," said the doctor. "I'm keeping them closely monitored. I want as little interference as possible."

"Of course," said Dean.

"So, you think this might be an epidemic?" asked Dr. Winchester. "Some kind of disease?"

"Maybe," said Sam. "We'll let you know when we found out."

"Okay," said Dr. Winchester.

The brothers thanked the doctor and left the hospital.

"What do you think?" asked Dean.

"I'm thinking this doctor's looking more and more like our guy," Sam told him. "I mean, a psychiatrist's job is to relieve mental problems, right? So, maybe his spirit is wiping their mind to remove **all** mental problems."

"Yeah, maybe," said Dean. "Let's go talk to the families."

* * *

"So, Sandra was admitted four days ago?" Sam asked the fourth victim's mother.

Mrs. Manison nodded. "Yeah, I went to go wake her up, but all she did was sit there and stare at me. I tried everything, but she wouldn't respond." She shook her head. "I guess I should have seen it coming."

"Why do you say that?" asked Dean.

"Well…about a month ago, she was raped on her way home from school," said Mrs. Manison. "As if that wasn't bad enough, she just found out that she was pregnant. I guess she just couldn't take it anymore."

"Thank you for your time," Sam told her as they got up to leave.

* * *

Sam came back into the motel room to find Dean watching TV.

"You find anything?" asked Dean.

"Definitely," Sam told his brother as he plopped his research onto the table. "So, it looks like we have a pattern. We have the rape and pregnancy with Sandra. Matt Treler was headed to the college basketball championships when he was busted for using steroids. He was kicked off the team, and shunted out of the university. Casey Carmine was getting ready to enter a beauty pageant. She became anorexic to compete with the other girls, and they were just headed to finals. Walter Duncan was up for tenure, but he had an issue with a student that could interfere with his tenure. And the last victim, Peter Basen, had just broken up with his long-term girlfriend. On top of that, his father just went into a coma."

"So, all these vics had some major issues," said Dean. "The stress was getting to them. I mean, most of them had horrible stuff happening to them. So maybe, Maxfield senses their stress and tries to help them, but it just ends up with them in the loony bin."

"Exactly."

* * *

Maxfield stood outside a motel room, face twisted in anguish. The two brothers inside remained oblivious to his presence.

_Oh, that one has so much guilt. I can feel his sorrow…his pain…I have to help him._

**Which Winchester gets it? What do you think?**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Dean left the bar and got into the Impala, heading back to the motel. After he and Sam had talked, Dean had gone out to take a break.

_This case is going great,_ Dean thought. _Only one day on the job, and we've already solved it._

Dean parked the car and entered the motel room. Sam was lying on his bed, scrunched up knees pointed towards the door, back flat on the mattress, head turned away from the door.

Dean winced. _That can't be comfortable._

Dean closed the door, throwing his keys on the table and taking off his jacket. "Hey, Sammy. Can't sleep?" There was no answer, and Dean turned to look at Sam. Sam was still in the same position. "Sam?" Dean could see that his eyes were open, so he wasn't asleep. Dean began moving towards Sam's bed. "Sam."

Sam's head slowly turned until his eyes fell on Dean. Dean felt his stomach drop as he looked into Sam's eyes. Sam's face was blank, but there was this intense fascination in his eyes…

_As if he'd never seen a human being before…_

Dean reached Sam's bed and placed his hands on Sam's shoulders. "Sammy? Can you hear me?" Sam gave no response except to let his eyes wander over Dean's face in extreme interest. "Sam, it's me, Dean, your brother! Talk to me!" Sam's eyebrows contracted slightly, as if taking that in. "Sam, snap out of it!"

Sam just rolled his head over and let his eyes roam the room. Dean fell back onto the other bed. He began to remember everything that had happened in Sam's life recently.

_The demon blood, Ruby's duplicity, freeing Lucifer…He was feeling guilty…and I didn't help at all…_

With a horrible pang of guilt, Dean remembered their conversation a couple of days ago.

_Sam and Dean stopped in the parking lot._

"_You know, I was thinking, Dean," said Sam. "Maybe we could go after the Colt."_

"_Why?" asked Dean. "What difference would that make?"_

"_Well, we could use it on Lucifer," said Sam. "I mean, you just said back there—"_

"_I just said a bunch of crap for Bobby's benefit. I mean…I'll fight. I'll fight till the last man, but let's at least be honest. I mean, we don't stand a snowball's chance, and you know that. I mean, hell, you of all people know that."_

"_Dean…Is there something you want to say to me?"_

"_I tried, Sammy. I mean, I really tried. But I just can't keep pretending that everything's alright. Because it's not. And it's never going to be. You chose a demon over your own brother, and look what happened."_

"_I would give anything—anything—to take it all back."_

"_I know you would. And I know how sorry you are. I do. But, man…you were the one that I depended on the most. And you let me down in ways that I can't even…I'm just—I'm having a hard time forgiving and forgetting here. You know?"_

"_What can I do?"_

"_Honestly? Nothing. I just don't…I don't think that we can ever be what we were. You know? I just don't think I can trust you."_

Dean's eyes widened. _Oh, no…Maxfield got to him…_

Tears sprang into his eyes as he watched his brother lie on the mattress.

_This is my fault…I was too hard on him…I made him feel guilty…_

As Sam rolled so he was lying on his side, Dean blinked back the tears.

_Come on, Dean. There's gotta be a way. Sam needs you. It's like with Ellicott…burn the bones and Sam goes back to normal._

Dean got up and came to the table, where Sam's research sat. He rifled through the papers until he found what he was looking for.

_Dr. Roger Maxfield…New Hope Cemetery…plot 421._

Dean drew the curtains on the window and set salt lines down at the windows and door. He walked out of the room, locking the door with his key. Jumping into the Impala, Dean took off for the New Hope Cemetery. Arriving, he opened the weapons' cash in the trunk and grabbed his shotgun with several rock salt shells. He also took a tin of salt, a can of gasoline, and a shovel. Closing the trunk, he began searching through the tombstones.

Finding Maxfield's grave, Dean put his duffel bag of supplies on the ground, grabbed the shovel, and began digging. As he got deeper and deeper, he realized that the doc had only been buried about two weeks, which means the body would be pretty fresh.

_Doesn't matter…I have to save Sammy…_

Dean finally hit something solid, and he threw the shovel out of the grave. He bent down and pried open the coffin lid.

"Agh, gross!" Dean sputtered as he ducked his head away from the stench. He looked down at the slowly-decaying corpse. "That is just nasty."

Dean climbed out of the grave and grabbed his tin of salt. He dumped the contents up and down the body. He next poured the gasoline on the body, grabbing the book of matches from his pocket.

"This is gonna smell like hell," Dean muttered.

He lit the matches and threw it into the grave. The flame caught, and the grave went up in flames. Letting the flames die down, Dean covered up the grave and headed back to the motel. He unlocked the door to find the salt line intact and Sam lying in bed still.

"Sam?"

At the sound of his voice, Sam rolled over and stared at him with wide, innocent eyes. He still had that blank look on his face.

Dean's hope deflated as he stared at his little brother.

_No…No, not him…It didn't work…I couldn't save him…_

Dean sat on his bed, facing Sam. Sam watched him with interest.

_What do I do now? I guess I could always take him to that hospital…_

As soon as that thought entered his head, he immediately discarded it, shaking his head.

_I can't do that to him…_

Dean looked up at Sam and froze. Sam was slowly shaking his head just as Dean had been a moment ago. As soon as Dean froze, Sam stopped and stared at Dean.

"Sam?" Dean asked. Sam tilted his head to the side slightly as Dean spoke, watching Dean's mouth move. Dean leaned forward a little. "Can you hear me?"

Sam slowly reached a hand out, fingers brushing Dean's lips. Dean frowned as the corner of Sam's mouth raised into a slight smile.

_What the hell? He's acting like a newborn._

Dean took hold of Sam's hand and put it back on Sam's bed. Sam kept a hold of Dean's hand, raising it in front of his face and running his fingers over it. Dean watched as Sam then raised his own hand in front of his face, comparing the two. He then held Dean's hand up by the wrist and placed his palm to Dean's, thumb to thumb and pinky to pinky. He looked up at his big brother, a big smile on his face.

"You like that, huh?" muttered Dean. "Being like your big brother?"

Sam looked at him and nodded after a moment. Dean's eyes widened.

"You know what I'm saying?" asked Dean. Sam frowned at Dean, seeming to process the question. After a few seconds, his face brightened as he slowly nodded. A smile broke on Dean's face. "Great, Sammy. You're doing great."

At the praise from his big brother, Sam's face lit up, and he smiled at Dean.

"Hey, buddy," said Dean. "Are you tired?" Sam shook his head, but then gave a big yawn. "Yeah, sure you're not. Come on, Sammy. You think you can go to bed for me?"

Sam nodded and rolled over, closing his eyes. Dean pulled Sam's boots off and pulled the blanket over him. He watched as Sam's face relaxed into a deep sleep. Dean walked into the bathroom and closed the door so he wouldn't wake Sam. He pulled out his cell.

"Dean?" Bobby answered.

"Bobby," Dean started in hushed tones. "We got a problem."

"What do you mean?" asked Bobby.

"That case we went on, with the mental patients? We found what was doing it. This doctor's ghost that was taking people's minds. I burned his bones, but before I could…he got Sam."

"He, what?"

"I came back from a bar tonight to find Sam unresponsive to anything I did. We had figured out that the spirit went after highly stressed people. And what with Sam's demon blood addiction and Ruby and Lucifer and me telling him I didn't trust him—"

"Slow down. What happened next?"

"I figured that destroying the spirit would fix him, so I went to burn the bones, but when I came back, he hadn't changed."

"So, now Sam's just like all the other patients?"

"I'm not so sure."

"How so?"

"All the other patients don't communicate with anyone. They just sit there and watch you. And that's how Sam was at first, but then he started responding. He began to copy me, then he started communicating with me. Not through words, but just nodding. He seemed to understand me. I don't get it. It's not adding up."

"Unless…"

"What?"

"What if the doctor wasn't taking their minds? What if he was just…simplifying them?"

"Simplifying?"

"You know, taking away the knowledge and memories of their lives, and letting them start over. I mean, you said it yourself. The patients don't communicate with anyone. But it sounds as though Sam is learning by watching you."

"So you're saying these people have been mentally turned into newborns."

"Maybe. This doctor probably thought that giving them a second chance to learn everything would help them through their issues."

"Great, so now I gotta wait twenty-six years to get Sam back?"

"I don't think so."

"What are you talking about?"

"Sam was infected tonight, but he began learning from you within a few hours. I think having you around—a big brother—will help Sam to recover in…I'd say, a month tops."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks, Bobby."

"I'll be there tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay."

Dean hung up and headed back out to the bed, watching Sam. The kid was curled up on his side under the blanket, knees halfway to his chest, and his hand up in front of his face, thumb in his mouth. Dean smiled at the absurd picture his giant of a little brother made. Dean pulled out his cell phone to take a picture, but then couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, Dean lay down in the other bed and rolled over, watching his brother until sleep claimed him.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The poking was incessant. Something kept prodding his shoulder.

"Ugh, go away," Dean muttered. The poking continued until Dean opened his eyes.

He was greeted by Sam's wide brown eyes less than a foot away. Dean sat up on his elbows, looking at Sam. His little brother was sitting on the floor right next to the bed, his long legs tucked up to his body. He seemed to be waiting for Dean's reaction.

Dean smiled at him despite the early hour. _Damn, I forgot how early kids wake up. _"Good morning, Sammy."

Sam smiled and planted a palm on Dean's chest, withdrawing it with a small laugh. Dean took that as Sam's way of saying good morning.

"Hey, buddy," said Dean. "What do you say we get you in the shower?" Sam looked at him in confusion. "Oh, great. This'll be fun." Dean got out of bed and held his hand out for Sam. "Come on, Sasquatch."

Sam just stared at his hand, as if trying to decide what he was supposed to do with it. He gave a triumphant smile and slapped Dean's hand, giving him a high-five.

Dean rolled his eyes. "This is gonna take a while."

Dean reached down and grasped both of Sam's hands, pulling the kid to his feet. He began making his way towards the bathroom, but Sam hadn't moved. He was watching Dean's legs in fascination.

"Super," Dean muttered. He walked over to Sam and stood next to him. Sam looked at him. "Just like me, okay?"

Sam nodded, and Dean directed his attention to his legs. Dean slowly lifted his leg, bringing it forward and planting it back on the carpet. Sam screwed up his face in concentration as he looked down at his own feet. He slowly lifted one leg, pushing it forward and bringing it toward the floor. He wasn't prepared for the change in balance, and he wavered on his feet.

"Whoa!" said Dean, flinging his arms out and steadying Sam as he began to fall. "You okay?" Sam looked down at his feet, face broken and dejected. "Hey, hey, it's okay, kiddo. It happens to everyone. We can just try again. Ready?"

Sam looked up, face still sad, and nodded. Dean demonstrated once again, and Sam gave it another try. This time when his foot hit the carpet, he swung his arms out to balance himself and stayed on his feet. He looked up at Dean with a huge smile.

"Good job, Sammy!" Dean told him, a smile on his face. "Let's try it again."

Sam lifted his other leg with Dean, taking another step. It proceeded this way until they reached the bathroom, with Sam getting more and more sure of himself. Dean looked into the bathroom, suddenly becoming uneasy.

"Wait here," Dean told his brother.

Dean headed for Sam's duffel, pulling clean clothes out for him. As he turned, he found Sam standing behind him.

"Sam, I told you to wait—" Dean began. He looked from the bathroom doorway to Sam. He smiled at Sam. "You walked over here by yourself?"

Sam smiled at that and proceeded to show Dean how well he could walk. Sam's gait was a little shaky, but he made it back to the bathroom on his own.

"Good, Sammy!" Dean praised him. He ushered Sam into the bathroom, setting Sam's clothes on the counter. He looked up at his brother, unsure. "You remember how to use the bathroom, right?" He pointed at the toilet.

Sam looked over to where Dean was pointing, staring at the porcelain bowl. As he frowned and chewed on his lip, he looked so much like himself that Dean did a double take. Sam's face brightened, and he nodded at Dean.

"Okay, go ahead," Dean told him. "I'll be right outside the door."

Dean walked out of the bathroom and closed the door. As little as he wanted to, Dean leaned against the door, listening. When he heard the unmistakable sound of water hitting water, he breathed a sigh of relief.

_Thank God I don't have to toilet train him._

After about five minutes, the door was suddenly pulled open. Dean fell forward, catching himself on the door frame. Sam then proceeded to laugh at him.

"You think this is funny, do you?" said Dean. "Let's see if you're laughing when I'm through with you."

Dean darted forward, pinning Sam to the bathroom wall and tickling him. He had done this all the time when they were younger, and Dean knew all of Sam's ticklish spots. Sam began giggling, sucking in huge lungfuls of air when he could. When Sam's face began to redden, Dean let up, giving Sam a breather. Sam reached forward and slapped his hand against Dean's shoulder, a big smile on his face.

"Okay, let's get you going here," said Dean. He turned the shower on, making sure it wasn't too hot. He turned to see Sam slowly unbuttoning his shirt. "Oh, good. You remember how to undress yourself."

Dean held a towel up between them as Sam moved to the clothes on his lower half. He didn't need to see that. Dean pulled the curtain open, making sure Sam didn't trip over the edge of the tub. Once Sam was in, Dean put the towel on the counter. He rolled up his sleeves and peeled back the curtain, ensuring that part of it concealed his view of 'little Sam.'

"Here," said Dean, pointing to the white bar of soap on the shower ledge. "You take this and rub it all over your skin—not your hair. Close your eyes when it's on your face."

Sam reached out and clasped the soap in his hand. It slipped out and fell to the floor. Sam scooped it up and held it firmly in his hand as he took it to his stomach. When he reached his face, he slammed his eyes closed. After he finished, he stood there with closed eyes, unsure of what to do next. Dean grabbed the bar of soap from him.

"Okay, step into the water and rinse yourself off," Dean told him.

Sam took small steps into the spray of water. He ran his hands over his skin, rinsing the soap off. He opened his eyes and looked at Dean. Dean picked the bottle of shampoo up and opened it.

"Hold your hand out," Dean told him. Sam did as he was told, and Dean squirted some shampoo into his hand. "Rub that stuff in your hair."

Sam took his hand to his head, rubbing his hands all over his head and developing suds in his hair.

"Now rinse it out," Dean told him. "Keep your eyes closed."

Sam turned his head into the water, closing his eyes. He scrubbed at his head until well after the bubbles were gone.

"Okay, that's good, buddy," Dean told him. He turned the faucet off and grabbed the towel, holding it up as he pulled back the curtain. "Here, dry off."

Sam stepped out of the shower and accepted the towel in Dean's hands. Dean turned around while Sam dried off. After a few minutes, he felt a nudge to his arm. Dean turned, once again shielding Sam with the towel. Dean held up a pair of boxers.

"Put those on," said Dean.

Once Sam had the boxers on, Dean dropped the towel on the counter. They had seen each other in their boxers too many times to care. Dean grabbed Sam's jeans, squatting down and holding the waistband open and bunching the pants up in his hands.

"Up," said Dean, tapping Sam's left ankle with the jeans.

Sam lifted his foot and put it into the jeans. Dean tapped the other leg, and Sam did the same with that one. Dean lifted the jeans to Sam's knees.

"Here, grab it," said Dean. Sam reached down and pulled the jeans up to his waist. "You know how to do the buttons?" Sam just stared at him. "Great."

_There's no way I'm doing that for him. Well…he learned great by imitation before…_

Dean unbuttoned and unzipped his own jeans. "Watch me, okay?" Sam looked down at Dean's waist in interest. Dean slowly buttoned and zipped his jeans, waiting for Sam to catch on. Sam grasped both sides of his fly, bringing them together. He slid the button into the hole, reached down, and grasped the zipper, pulling it up.

"Great, Sammy!" Dean praised. Sam smiled as Dean grabbed Sam's white T-shirt. "Hold your arms out."

Sam held his arms straight out in front of him. Dean slid his arms into the sleeves, sliding the shirt down and putting Sam's head through the collar. When the shirt fell down from around Sam's face, Dean poked him in the nose. Sam giggled as Dean let the shirt fall over his torso. Dean slid Sam's arms into a long-sleeved shirt, doing up the buttons on the front.

"Now, let's try brushing your teeth," said Dean. He pulled their toothbrushes and a tube of toothpaste over to them, handing Sam his. "Do like I do, you got that?"

Sam nodded, ready to imitate his brother. Dean squirted some paste onto his toothbrush and passed the tube to Sam. Sam squirted some on his brush, too. Dean put his toothbrush in his mouth and started brushing. Sam followed suit. After about a minute, Dean turned the faucet on and spit. Sam spit also. Dean got two small cups out of the cabinet and filled them with water. He handed one to Sam.

"Don't swallow," Dean told him. "Move it in your mouth and spit it out."

Dean took a mouthful of water, swished it around, and spit it into the sink. Sam did the same and looked up at Dean, waiting for a reaction.

"You did good, Sammy."

Sam smiled and walked out of the bathroom. He seemed much more stable on his feet now. Dean began cleaning up their things.

"Dean…"

Dean froze and looked over at Sam. He was staring at Dean with a pleading look on his face. Dean walked out of the bathroom towards Sam.

"What did you say?" asked Dean.

Sam opened his mouth slowly. "Dean." His voice was small, quiet and child-like. Sam's eyes brightened as he realized just what he was doing. "Dean." His face became pleading again. "Dean…"

"What is it, Sammy?" Dean asked.

Sam put a hand on his stomach. "Hurts…"

Dean's eyes widened, and he reached forward, putting his hands on Sam's arms. "What hurts? Are you okay?" Dean stopped when he heard a low rumbling…from Sam's stomach. Dean smiled. "It's okay, Sam. It's called hunger. It means you need to eat."

Dean grabbed Sam's jacket, putting it on him. He put on his own jacket and grabbed his keys. He put a hand on Sam's back, helping him out the door. Sam looked around as Dean locked the door. A barking started up, and Sam spun in surprise as the hotel manager's red Pembrook Welsh Corgi began to run towards them. (This is the kind of dog that I have. Go check it out on Google! They're so cute!) Sam startled and rushed behind Dean as the dog approached them.

"Sammy, it's okay," Dean told him.

He quickly knelt down, petting the short dog. The thing looked like a cross between a fox and a wiener dog. Dean calmly let the puppy sniff and lick at him to assure Sam. Sam hesitantly edged forward, kneeling down next to Dean. The Corgi began to head for Sam, but Dean held the collar, giving Sam a chance to adjust.

"Go on," Dean told him. "He won't bite. Dogs are very friendly. I got him."

Sam hesitantly reached his hand out. The puppy eagerly leaned his head forward, sniffing at Sam's hand. The dog flicked his tongue out, licking Sam's fingers. Sam giggled as he reached his hand out. He began petting the puppy. Dean released the collar, and the dog jumped up to lick at Sam's face.

Sam giggled. "He funny."

Dean smiled. "Yeah…he is funny."

Sam looked up at Dean. "What dog?"

Dean frowned, trying to work through 'Sammy speak.' It finally clicked. "Uh, I think this kind is a Welsh Corgi."

Sam looked down at the dog, smiling. "He name Corky."

"Corky, huh?" said Dean. "That's a good name for him." Sam pet the dog a couple more times before Dean stood. "Okay, Sam, time to go."

Sam looked up at Dean, eyes wide. "I stay with Corky."

Dean put his hands on his hips. "What happened to breakfast?"

Sam's eyes fell to the road. "Oh, wight. I hungry." (At the convention I went to, Jared actually said 'I hungry' in this cute little voice.) Sam looked the puppy in the face. "You be good, Corky. I be back." Sam jumped up, heading to the Impala's door.

Dean opened the door and helped Sam climb in, making sure the kid didn't smack his ginormous statue on the car. Dean headed to the driver's side, starting the engine. Dean turned on one of his tapes, where AC/DC's "Thunderstruck" was playing. He startled when he heard Sam gasp.

Dean looked at his brother. "What? What is it?"

"Wove dis song," Sam told him.

"Really?" said Dean. "You like AC/DC?"

"Dey de best!" Sam exclaimed.

Dean blinked, surprised. Sam had never shown any interest in classic rock before. Now, Dean finds out that this whole time, he'd actually enjoyed it?

Sam began to bounce slightly on the seat next to him. Dean looked closely at him. If he had to guess, he'd put Sam's current mental state at that of a two-year-old.

Dean shrugged, impressed. _The kid learns fast._

* * *

Dean helped Sam through the door of the diner, keeping an eye on him. When they found a booth, a waitress came over.

"What can I get for you?" she asked.

Dean looked across the table at his brother. "What do you want, kiddo?"

Sam looked down at the menu in front of him and then up at Dean, eyes sad. Dean felt like he could kick himself. Of course Sam couldn't read yet.

"Sorry, buddy," said Dean. He took the menu and skimmed through it. "What do you want to drink? They got everything."

Sam looked up at Dean, eyes hopeful. "Shake?"

Dean laughed. "That's my boy! Vanilla? Chocolate?"

"Choc—" Sam tried, blinking in concentration. "Cho—co…" He looked up at Dean, helpless.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean told him. "You'll get it." Dean looked up at the waitress. "Two chocolate shakes, please."

The waitress smiled. "Sure thing." She looked at Sam, giving him a big smile. "You want whip cream on that, little man?"

Sam's eyes lit up, and he looked at Dean for permission.

"Sure, why not?" said Dean.

Sam looked up at the waitress. "Yes, pease."

"Alright," she said, jotting that down. She leaned on the table towards Sam. "And you know what? I'm going to put a special surprise in yours. How does that sound?"

Sam's eyes lit up and he nodded.

"Alright, how do chicken nuggets sound, Sammy?" asked Dean. Sam nodded, and Dean looked up at the waitress. "Chicken nuggets and fries. And a bacon cheeseburger with fries."

"Okay," said the waitress. With one last smile at Sam, she left to place their order.

"She nice," said Sam.

Dean watched the sway of her hips as she walked away. "Yes, she is."

"She be my fwend," Sam announced.

Dean looked at him. "Ya think so?"

Sam nodded. "Mm-hmm."

Dean looked over to where the waitress had disappeared. She seemed really nice, and she was so kind to Sam. She didn't even give him a weird look. A few minutes later, she came back with their order. Sam looked down at his shake in surprise. A chocolate chip cookie was dunked halfway into the top of his shake.

"Wow, look at that, Sammy," said Dean. "You hit the jackpot."

"Fank you," Sam told the waitress. "You my fwend."

"Am I now?" she said. "What's your name, friend?"

"Sammy," Sam told her.

"Hi, Sammy. I'm Jessica."

Dean snapped his head over to look at Sam. The kid just kept smiling, oblivious to the significance of that name.

"Now we fwends," Sam giggled as Jessica smiled at them.

"You bet," Jessica told him. "Enjoy your meal."

Sam dug in as Dean did the same. Halfway through the meal, Dean looked up at Sam.

"For crying out loud, Sam," Dean told him. "It's supposed to go in you, not on you."

Sam had ketchup smeared on his cheek next to his mouth. Sam reached a hand up and wiped at it. The ketchup smeared down to his chin as he brought his hand away. Sam grinned as he reached a hand over and smeared the ketchup onto Dean's cheek. Dean glared at him.

Sam laughed. "Now we same."

Dean rolled his eyes and reached over, grabbing Sam's dirty hand. Picking up a napkin, Dean cleaned his hand off. He then leaned forward with a fresh napkin, wiping Sam's face off. Once he had gotten his brother clean, he brought another napkin up, cleaning himself off.

When they finished their meal, Dean headed for the register with Sam. Jessica approached the register.

"Hey, guys," said Jessica. "Did you enjoy your meal?"

"Mm-hmm," said Sam. "It yummy."

Dean paid for their meal.

"It was nice meeting you, Sammy," said Jessica.

Sam nodded and began heading for the Impala. Dean turned to Jessica.

"By the way, thanks…for, you know…" Dean told Jessica.

"Oh, it's no problem," said Jessica. "He's such a sweetheart. If you don't mind me asking…what happened?"

"Oh, it was, uh…" started Dean, taking on a sad composure. "It was a car accident a couple weeks ago. Doctors say that it'll take a while to get him back to normal…maybe a month at most."

"Aw…" said Jessica, eyes glancing back at Sam. She straightened a little. "You might want to get out there."

"What, why?" said Dean, spinning around. Sam stood at the passenger door of the Impala, patiently waiting for Dean. At the edge of the parking lot, a group of teenage boys were making their way towards Sam…and Dean did not like the look of them. He looked over at Jessica. "Thanks again."

Dean rushed out to the Impala.

"Hey, Sammy, why don't we go to the store, huh?" said Dean.

Sam nodded excitedly, and Dean helped him into the car. Once he closed the door, Dean glared back at the group, which was about fifty feet from the car. Dean sent them a murderous glare that promised a long, painful death to anyone who fucked with him or his brother. They seemed to scoff until Dean pulled his .45 out of the waistband of his jeans, holding it at his side. The group froze and stared at Dean, stunned. They quickly turned and walked away.

Dean put the gun into his jacket and got into the driver's seat, glancing over at Sam. Sam hadn't noticed a thing that had gone on a moment ago, thank goodness. As Dean started the car, Sam reached forward and started the AC/DC tape once again, smiling and nodding along to the beat.

**Thank goodness Dean averted that disaster, but stay tuned! Unfortunately, some Hurt!Sam coming up.**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Dean headed through Walmart with Sam, headed for the kid section. Sam needed something to keep himself occupied until he returned to normal. As they came into view of the toys, Sam smiled and looked at Dean.

"We buy somefing?" asked Sam.

"Yeah, I'm gonna buy you a couple things," said Dean.

Sam suddenly threw himself at Dean, wrapping his long arms around him and hugging him close. Dean blinked in surprise as his brother embraced him.

"You best bwuder ever," Sam told him.

"You're welcome, buddy," said Dean. "Go pick what you want."

Sam took off for the aisles with Dean behind him. Sam paused at a shelf of stuffed animals. Right in the middle was a Welsh Corgi stuffed puppy.

"Look at that, Sammy," said Dean. "They got one that looks like your friend." Sam plucked it from the shelf and held it close. He looked up at Dean. "Yeah, you can get that one."

Sam smiled and started down the aisle again. When they reached the boys' toys, Sam's eyes lit up as he scanned the shelves. He picked up a box with a black muscle car inside.

"You like that, huh?" said Dean.

Sam nodded. "Look like Pala."

Dean laughed. "Yeah, it does." Dean took the small box to carry it as they searched some more.

When they were done, they had a stuffed animal, two toy cars, a Superman action figure, three kids' books, and a soccer ball. They approached the register, and Dean put their purchases on the counter.

"Okay, Sam, let her ring the dog up," said Dean, holding his hand out. Sam clutched the dog closer, frowning. "Sammy, it's okay. You can have it right back when she's done." Sam shook his head.

"Tell you what, sweetie," the woman told Sam. "You can have my bracelet until I give it back. That way, you have something of mine so I won't steal it."

Sam seemed to consider it, then nodded. The woman slid her bracelet off her wrist and held it out to Sam. Sam took it as he held out his dog. The woman raised the scanner and rang the animal up in Sam's hand.

"See?" the woman smiled. "You didn't even have to give it to me."

Sam smiled and held out her bracelet. "Here you bwacet."

"Why, thank you," said the woman, putting her bracelet back on.

"Me Sammy," said Sam.

"Hi, Sam. I'm Jewel."

Sam gasped. "Dat pwetty."

"Thank you," said Jewel. "And you're a sweetheart."

Dean smiled and shook his head. _The guy is getting more chick attention as a kid than as an adult._

"Okay, buddy," said Dean. "Ready to go?" Sam nodded as Dean picked their bags up.

Dean gave Jewel a grateful look. "Thank you."

"No problem," said Jewel.

Dean took Sam out to the Impala, throwing the bags into the back seat. He opened Sam's door, surprised to see him climb inside without Dean's help. Dean smiled as he closed the door. He started the car up and pulled out of the parking lot. Sam hugged the dog close and yawned.

"Uh-oh," said Dean. "Looks like it's someone's nap-time…"

Sam shook his head. "Not seepy."

"If you say so," said Dean.

As they pulled into the parking space, Dean looked over to see Sam passed out in his seat. Dean smiled as he turned the car off. He turned and slowly shook Sam's shoulder.

"Come on, kiddo, wake up," said Dean. "I'm not carrying you in."

Sam opened his eyes and looked at Dean. Dean helped Sam out of the car, putting Sam's arm around his shoulders. He carefully put Sam on his bed, taking his boots off. He pulled the blanket over Sam as he hugged his Corgi close. With a smile on his face, Sam fell back to sleep. Dean went and got their bags out of the car, closing the door. He sat and watched Sam sleep for a moment before heading for Sam's laptop. After doing some research for a while, there was a knock at the door. Dean made sure Sam was still asleep, and opened the door.

"Hey, Bobby," said Dean in a whisper. "Sam's sleeping."

"Okay," Bobby said in a low voice. He wheeled himself into the motel room, glancing at the sleeping form of Sam. "How's he doing?"

"Okay, I guess," Dean told him, sitting on his own bed. "He's talking now, but like a two-year-old, you know? Short phrases, barely able to pronounce anything. He, uh…he can do things like take a shower and use the bathroom on his own, thank God. He's making friends—"

"Friends?" asked Bobby.

"Yeah, the manager's dog, the waitress at the diner, the clerk at Walmart…People just seem to love him."

"So, he's doing okay."

"Yeah, I'd say he's about at two, maybe three years old." Dean stood up and walked around to lean over Sam. "Hey, Sammy. Wake up." Sam moaned softly in his sleep, pulling the stuffed animal closer. "Sammy, wake up." Sam cracked his eyes open, looking up at Dean. "Hey, buddy. You think you can get up? Uncle Bobby's here." Sam frowned in confusion, eyes glancing behind Dean. "No, he's over there." Dean nodded in Bobby's direction.

Sam rolled over and looked at Bobby. Bobby smiled at Sam, and Sam stared at him. Sam looked up at Dean, a question in his eyes.

"What is it, Sammy?" asked Dean.

"What do you need, buddy?" asked Bobby.

Sam looked back at Bobby. "Why you in chair?"

Bobby smiled at Sam's small, innocent voice. "I got hurt and can't move around like you can. I have to use this chair to get around."

Sam's face saddened as he watched Bobby. "You sad? I make you better."

Sam climbed out from under the covers and approached Bobby, leaning over him and wrapping his arms around him. Bobby felt tears spring into his eyes as he put his arms around Sam. Sam let Bobby go and sat on his bed, grabbing the stuffed animal and hugging it.

"Feel better?" asked Sam.

"Much better, kiddo," said Bobby. "Thanks."

"Wecome, Unca Bobby," smiled Sam.

"Alright, why don't we go out for lunch, huh?" said Dean. "All three of us."

"What bout Toby?" asked Sam.

"Who's Toby?" asked Dean. Sam held out his stuffed Corgi. "Oh. I thought you'd name him Corky."

"No, siwy," Sam told him as if it was common knowledge. "Dat name of uder dog. Dey can't be same." He looked down at his Corgi. "He name Toby."

"It suits him," said Bobby.

"Fine, you can bring him," said Dean. He didn't dare come in between Sam and his 'pet.' "Let's go."

* * *

"Well, look who it is."

Sam looked up at their waitress and smiled. "Jessica!"

"Hiya, Sammy!" Jessica said as she looked at them. "Back again?"

"Well, you know, small town," Dean told her.

"I see you brought two new friends," said Jessica. Sam looked down at Toby in between he and Dean. "What's his name?"

"Toby," Sam told her.

"Well, hello, Toby," Jessica told the stuffed animal. She looked over at Bobby.

"Bobby," he told her. "Their uncle."

"Dean," said Sam. "Can I have burger?"

Dean stared at Sam in surprise. "Sam, you just pronounced all your words right."

"I do it wrong?" asked Sam, face sinking.

"No, no," Dean said quickly with a smile. "You did it! Good job, Sammy!"

Sam smiled and clapped his hands together. "I did it!"

"Yes, you did," said Dean, clapping him on the back. Sam swung his long arms over and hugged Dean, putting his head to Dean's chest. Dean patted Sam awkwardly on the head. "Alright, buddy, you're making a scene."

Sam lifted his head, moving away a little. "What that mean?"

Dean smiled. "It means everyone's looking because you're acting funny."

Sam's smile disappeared as he hung his head, broken by Dean's rejection.

Dean rolled his eyes, kicking himself. _Now look what you've done._

"Hey, Sammy, I'm sorry. Come here." Dean reached an arm out, pulling Sam into his arms. Dean enveloped Sam in his arms as Sam wrapped his arms tightly around Dean. Dean could feel sobs hitching through Sam's body, and he hugged Sam tighter. "I was a jerk. You can hug me anytime you want."

"Promise?" asked Sam in a small voice.

"Yeah, I promise, Sammy," Dean told him.

"Love you," Sam hitched out.

Dean smiled as he hugged Sam tighter. "I love you, too." He eased Sam out of his arms, lifting his head. His heart broke when he saw the tears on Sam's face. It hurt even worse knowing that it was him that put those tears there. He wiped his thumbs over his face, clearing the tears away. "You okay?"

Sam nodded as he picked Toby up, hugging him close.

"Tell you what, how about another cookie, on the house?" asked Jessica with a smile.

Sam brightened a little and looked at Dean.

"Yeah, why not?" said Dean.

"Okay, what'll it be?" asked Jessica.

They placed their order, and Jessica went to get it.

Bobby looked at Dean. "That was nice, Dean. You handled that real well."

"Yeah, well…he's my brother," said Dean, watching Sam cuddle the Corgi close. "It's my job, right? I can't let anyone hurt him…especially me. I'm all he's got…and he's all I got." Dean looked up at Bobby.

Bobby smiled at Dean. "That was beautiful, Dean."

"Oh, bite me," Dean told him as Bobby laughed.

_Looks like my rule on chick flick moments is on sabbatical until Sammy gets back to normal._

* * *

"I'm bored," Sam whined once again.

"Yeah, Sam, we know," said Dean from his spot on his bed.

Sam was sitting on the other bed, toys lain forgotten in front of him. After their lunch, they had decided to relax at the room the rest of the night. Sam had played with his Superman and toy cars before picking up the books and looking at the pictures since he couldn't read yet. Now, he had exhausted his four-year-old imagination to its max.

"Hey, how about we order pizza and watch a movie?" said Dean. "What do you say?"

"Yay!" exclaimed Sam, clapping his hands.

"What kind of movie?" asked Dean.

"Um…" Sam scrunched his face up in thought. "Scary movie!"

"Are you sure?" asked Dean. "It might give you nightmares."

"No, it not," Sam told him. "My big brother protect me."

Dean smiled. "You bet I will. Are you sure?"

"Please, Dean," Sam pleaded, his eyebrows raising and his eyes deepening in longing.

_Oh, man. He's discovered the puppy-dog look._

Dean rolled his eyes. "Alright, Sam. Don't come crawling to me in the middle of the night." He looked at the TV Guide. "Hey, look at that. _The Shining._ We're in luck, bro."

"Yeah…bro," said Sam, trying out the nickname. He giggled. "Bro."

Dean smiled as Bobby wheeled back in from the bathroom.

"Everything go okay in there?" asked Dean.

Bobby glared at him. "Bite me, ya idjit."

"Hey, we're gonna order pizza," said Dean. "Ya want any?"

"Yeah, I'll have some," said Bobby. He watched Dean grab the remote. "What're we watching?"

"Shining!" Sam told him with a smile.

Bobby looked at Dean. "You think that's a good idea?" He gave a pointed look at Sam.

"Hey, he insisted," said Dean. Bobby glared at him, and he raised his shoulders in defense. "He gave me the eyes!"

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Alright, but he's sleeping in your bed when he gets nightmares."

"No, he's not," said Dean.

Within a half hour, they head their two pizzas and the movie going. Dean kept glancing at Sam, watching to see if the kid was getting too scared. Sam would jump at the usual sudden moments in the movie, but overall, he was doing okay. Dean glanced back at the screen to watch Jack Nicholson taking an axe to the bathroom door. Jack stuck his face to the hole he had made.

"Here Johnny!" Sam exclaimed as the same time Jack did.

Dean's head snapped over to stare at Sam. Sure, Sam had seen this movie with Dean when they were kids dozens of time, but at the new mental state Sam was in, his memories were all brand new. Which meant…

"Bobby, he's remembering…" Dean told the other hunter. "Maybe not a lot, but…his memories are coming back."

"And a lot sooner than I expected," said Bobby. "This may only take a couple weeks."

Dean smiled as he looked back at Sam.

_Damn, you're one hell of a fighter, Sammy._

* * *

Dean woke up to his own alarm the next morning. He sat up on the couch, glancing over at the beds. He had given Bobby his bed, while Sam slept in the other bed. Sam was still sound asleep. Thank goodness he had outgrown the waking-up-early-toddler phase.

Dean got up and approached Sam. "Come on, kiddo, wake up." Sam opened his eyes and looked at Dean. "Any nightmares?"

Sam shook his head. "My Dean kick their ass."

Dean laughed. "I did, huh?"

"Uh-huh," Sam told him as he sat up. "You go like this." Sam clenched his fist and swung it out. "And this." He drove his fist forward. "You save me."

"Of course I did," Dean told him. "That's my job…watch after my brother. Now…" Dean made sure had had Sam's attention. "Do you remember how to take a shower?"

Sam nodded, eager to prove how smart he was. "Soap, water, shampoo, water."

Dean smiled. "That's right. Good!" Sam beamed. "Think you can do all that by yourself this time?"

Sam nodded and jumped up, heading for the bathroom and closing the door. Dean approached the door and swung it open about two inches.

"Hey, I'm gonna leave this open a little, okay?" Dean called. "I wanna make sure you don't get hurt."

"Okay," said Sam.

Dean glanced in to see Sam removing his shirt.

_So far, so good._

Dean pulled one of the chairs up to the wall next to the door, grabbing a muscle car magazine. He wished he could look at one of his skin mags, but he had thrown those out this morning so Sam didn't get a hold of them.

"Dean, help me," Sam called from the bathroom.

Dean put the magazine on the floor. "Put a towel around your waist." There was a moment of silence.

"Okay," Sam called.

Dean opened the door and came in. Sam stood by the shower, towel held around his waist. "What is it?"

Sam looked at the faucet. "Don't know how."

Dean nodded and stood by Sam. "Okay, watch me." Dean turned the knob, and the water poured out of the showerhead. "That's how you turn it on. Put your hand out and feel it."

Sam extended his hand into the water and withdrew it suddenly. "It cold!"

"Yeah, it's cold," said Dean. "You want to feel the water before you get in. Since the water is cold, you want to turn it this way." Dean turned the knob clockwise until it faced the 'H.' "Now feel it."

Sam put his hand out again. "That much better."

"You good now?" asked Dean. Smiled nodded, and Dean left the bathroom, leaving the door a little open. As he headed to Sam's duffel to get some clothes, he noticed Bobby looking at him. "What?"

"Nothing," said Bobby, sitting up and scooting over to his wheelchair.

Dean grabbed Sam's change of clothes, slipping them onto the counter in the bathroom. He plopped down in his chair and picked up his magazine. After a half hour, he finally heard the water turn off. He waited patiently until the door next to him opened. He stood up to find that Sam was dry and had every article of clothing in the right place. Dean reached out, checking to see if Sam's wet hair felt oily or gunky.

"Good, Sam!" Dean told him. "You did real good!" As he brought his hand down, he noticed the stubble on his little brother's face. After all, he hadn't shaved in two days. "You're starting to show. What do you say we do something about that?"

Dean led Sam back into the bathroom, pulling out a can of shaving cream and a razor.

"What we doing?" asked Sam.

"This is called shaving," Dean told him. "First off, you never do this without me, and you never play with the razor. You got that?"

Sam nodded. "I be good."

"Okay," said Dean. "Now, when I put this stuff on your face, don't make a mess."

Dean poured some shaving cream into his hand and started applying it to Sam's face. When he was done, Sam giggled at his reflection.

"I Santa!" exclaimed Sam.

Dean laughed as he put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Okay. Hold still so you don't get hurt."

Dean put the razor to Sam's skin, making sure to leave those dark sideburns that Sam liked. He reached the underside of Sam's chin, tilting his head back to get to it. When he reached his upper lip, he looked at Sam.

"Go like this," Dean instructed. He drew his lips together as if he was smearing chapstick on his lips.

Sam did the same, and Dean carefully shaved his upper lip. Dean took a wet washcloth and cleaned the extra white foam from his face.

"Okay, brush your teeth," said Dean.

He watched Sam brush his teeth, smiling as he finished.

"That's good, Sammy," Dean told him. "I'm so proud of you." Sam walked into the room, heading for his toys. "Hey, Bobby, watch him for a minute, would ya?"

"Sure," said Bobby from his chair, having changed while they were in the bathroom.

Dean grabbed a change of clothes and closed the bathroom door. He hadn't gotten a shower in over twenty-four hours, not trusting himself to leave Sam in the room alone while he was in the shower for fifteen minutes. And he. Felt. Disgusting.

* * *

After they had showered and eaten, they dropped Bobby off at the room and headed back to Walmart. Dean wanted to buy a couple of older kid toys for later and some clothes the two of them needed. Dean grabbed a green, plaid button-down and held it up.

"What about this one, Sam?" asked Dean as he turned around. What he did not expect to find was an empty aisle. "Sammy?" Dean dropped the shirt and headed down the aisle. "Sam, where are you?"

Dean turned around, looking for his giant of a brother.

_How do you lose someone over six feet tall?_

Not seeing that familiar, brown-haired head anywhere, Dean looked back and forth, trying to see what might attract a four-year-old Sam. He spotted the entertainment section with its many big-screen TVs, showing some kid movie about talking race cars. He headed in that direction, spotting something on the floor. Dean rushed towards it, picking the stuffed Corgi up from the floor. Dean spun around, seeing his brother nowhere.

"SAMMY!"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

**Was Sam kidnapped? Well, he does get kidnapped a lot, doesn't he?**

"Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to calm down."

Dean spun around to see a female clerk behind him. Dean had been wandering around the entertainment section, no doubt freaking the civilians with his yelling.

"No, I will not calm down!" Dean yelled. "I have to find Sammy!"

"Who's Sammy?" she asked.

"My brother," said Dean. "He wandered off. He was in an accident and his brain was…" Dean was too panicked to finish.

She seemed to understand. "I'll help. What does he look like?"

"Brown hair, brown eyes, uh, blue button-down shirt, about three or four inches taller than me. Hard to miss."

"Okay," she said. She rushed to her phone, calling people to keep a lookout before heading off herself.

Dean rounded the corner where he had found Toby and looked at the floor.

_What the hell?_

Dean bent down, putting his finger in the dark red spot on the floor. He brought his hand up and looked at his fingers.

_Blood…_

Dean immediately looked around for more, spotting some to his left. He stood up and moved toward it, spotting more drops further along.

_Dammit, he's hurt._

Dean followed the trail of blood to a door to the storage area. He noticed a security guard to his right, who had come up behind him.

"I just got the call over my radio," the security guy said. "I saw you following the blood."

Nodding at the door, where blood stained near the window, Dean made his way inside with the guard following. Laughter echoed in the storage area, followed by a cry of pain…a cry Dean recognized. Tearing through the aisles, they made their way to the back. As they rounded the corner, the sight in front of them made Dean's blood boil.

Three teenage guys stood over a quivering form, laughing. The form was curled onto its side, arms and legs to its chest.

"What's the matter, loser?" the blonde guy said. "Don't have your little stuffed dog to protect you?" They laughed again.

"Oh, look, I think he's gonna cry for his Dean again," the brunette laughed. "What an idiot."

"No Dean here to wipe your snotty, little nose," the black-haired guy taunted as he brought his food back and nailed the form on the floor in the gut.

As Sam let out a cry of pain, Dean saw red. Before the guard could draw his gun and shout at the punks, Dean rushed forward, tackling Black. Blonde and Brunette spun to stare at the two of them. Dean rolled off of Black, leaning over him and punching him repeatedly in the face. Black stared up at Dean in terror, blood flowing from his nose. Dean stood up and landed a kick right in Black's gut.

"How do you like it, huh?!" Dean yelled. He kicked him a second time. "How do you like it?!"

"I said freeze!"

Dean froze, looking back at the guard just to see him pointing his gun at Blonde and Brunette, who had been about to bolt. Dean gave Black one last look of disgust before heading for Sam.

"Sammy," Dean said, leaning Sam up and wrapping his arms around him. "It's okay. I got you. You're going to be okay. I got you. They can't hurt you anymore."

For a while, Dean just sat there, rocking his little brother back and forth. Sam had his legs up against his chest, his hands clinging to the front of Dean's shirt and his head buried in Dean's chest. Dean held him close as sobs racked his body.

"Here, let me look," said Dean, putting a hand under Sam's chin and lifting his head up. Tear-filled brown eyes met his. "Oh, dammit…"

A bruise was forming under Sam's right eye, and it was swelling shut. Blood trickled down Sam's chin from his nose, and his bottom lip was cut…and this was just his face.

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered, rage welling up in him again. He pulled Sam to him, wrapping his arms around him again. "I'm so sorry, Sammy. I'm sorry I couldn't get there in time. I'm sorry."

"Come on," said a voice above him. Dean looked up to see the security guard standing next to him. A second guard was dealing with the punks. "My office is just around the corner."

Dean nodded. "Can you get up, Sammy? The nice police officer has somewhere we can fix you up."

He felt Sam nod into his chest, and he wrapped his arms around Sam, helping him up. Dean slung one of Sam's arms over his shoulders, helping him follow the guard. They turned down the corridor and came into an office. There was a couch across from a desk, and a fridge stood in the corner. Dean helped Sam over to the couch, laying his gangly form on it. Dean squatted next to Sam, stroking the hair out of his face. A wet towel was thrust in front of Dean by the guard, and Dean took it, gently wiping the blood from Sam's mouth and nose.

"Here, I got some ice," said the guard, wrapping ice in other towels.

Dean unbuttoned Sam's shirt and opened it, wincing at the dark bruises already forming on his torso.

"Those bastards," Dean growled. "Okay, Sam, I need you to tell me if any of this hurts, okay?"

Sam nodded, and Dean began gently pressing on Sam's chest, moving from side to side and down his torso. Sam winced when Dean moved over the bruises, but didn't yell in pain.

"Okay, no broken ribs," said Dean. He turned and took a thing of ice from the guard, pressing it to the bruises. The guard put another thing of ice to Sam's right eye. "Hey, Sammy, you doing okay?" Sam just trembled and cried under Dean's hands. "Hey, it's okay, kiddo. I got you."

"Scared, Dean," Sam whimpered.

Dean leaned closer. "They're gone. I took care of 'em. They can't get you anymore. I'm here." Sam reached out, grasping at Dean. Dean eased Sam up and sat next to him, leaning Sam against him. Sam pressed himself into Dean as Dean wrapped his arms around him. "Shh, I'm here. I'm here."

As Sam turned his body to snuggle closer to Dean, he hissed in pain. "What is it, Sammy? What hurts?"

"Foot," Sam mumbled. Dean looked down at Sam's foot, beginning to reach around Sam for it.

"I got it," said the guard.

He lifted the jeans on Sam's left leg, carefully taking the boot off. As he took the sock off, Dean's eyes widened. Sam's ankle was swelling and turning a dark blue color.

"Is it a sprain?" asked Dean.

The guard felt the ankle. "No, looks like he just twisted it. Probably as he was running from them; most likely how he ended up on the floor."

"Sorry," mumbled Sam.

Dean looked down at him. "Sorry for what?"

"Run off," said Sam. "Leave you, run off."

Dean took Sam's head in his hands and tilted it up to look Sam in the face. "This is not your fault. I'm not mad at you. Those guys were a bunch of jerks. I do not blame you. If anything, I blame myself. None of this is your fault." Dean hesitated before adding, "I still love you, kiddo."

Sam smiled a little, wrapping one arm around Dean's torso. "Love you, too."

"I got an Ace bandage in my desk," said the guard. "We can wrap it until you can get to the doctor. In the meantime…"

The guard turned to the freezer and pulled something out. He picked up a spoon and turned to Sam, holding out a pint of cookie dough ice cream. Sam lit up as the guy took the lid off and gave it to Sam, handing him the spoon. Dean smiled as Sam dug in, minding his busted lip.

"You didn't have to do that," Dean told the guy.

"It's no problem," he said. "Mike."

"Dean," said Dean, wrapping Sam's ankle. "And this is Sam, if you hadn't gotten that." Dean watched Sam make his way through the ice cream. "Hey, I'm sorry about losing it back there."

"Oh, it's okay," said Mike. "I got a brother, too. I would've done the same thing. Those guys were dicks."

Dean smiled. "Well, you're right about that. What's gonna happen to them?"

"As much as I'd like to give 'em a life sentence, most we could do is overnight in Juvy. But probably just a hefty fine."

"Dammit," said Dean, glancing at Sam in worry.

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about them."

Dean looked up at Mike. "Why?"

"You didn't get a glimpse of their faces. The way you went after that one guy…I think you scarred the three of 'em for life." Dean laughed. "I don't think they'll be going near either of you two again."

"Hey, thanks again, Mike," said Dean. Sam plopped the empty ice cream carton onto the table, setting the spoon into it. Dean looked over at him. "Feel better, kiddo?" Sam nodded with a slight smile on his face. "What do you say we head back to the room with Uncle Bobby?" Sam nodded again and Dean helped him up.

"Here," said Mike, holding up the stuffed Corgi.

"Thanks," said Dean. "Hey, look what I got." Dean held up Toby and Sam quickly accepted it, hugging it close.

"See you guys," said Mike, ushering them out of the office.

* * *

"What the hell happened?" asked Bobby as Dean helped Sam into the room.

"In a minute," said Dean. He settled Sam on the bed, putting some toys around him on the mattress. He grabbed the remote and turned the television on, putting on something Sam would enjoy. He walked over and sat down at the table with Bobby. "We wandered off in Walmart, and these three bastards surrounded him, teasing him. I think they hit him, 'cause there was blood on the floor. I followed that to the storage area, where I found the three of them standing over Sam on the floor, beating him."

Bobby's face clouded over. "Where are they?"

"I already took care of them," Dean told him. "Beat one up pretty good. They were arrested. I don't know how long for."

"Is he okay?" asked Bobby with a glance at Sam.

"He looks fine," said Dean, looking over at Sam, who was enjoying a Batman cartoon and hugging Toby close to his chest. "I mean, the security guard took us to his office to patch him up and gave him some ice cream. That seemed to cheer him up. But…I don't really know. I guess all we can do is watch and see if he's okay."

"Well, why don't we get him into bed, okay?" said Bobby.

"Yeah," said Dean. He got up, heading for Sam's bed. "Hey, buddy, let's get you into some PJs, what do you say?"

Sam nodded and got up, accepting the clothes Dean handed to him. He disappeared into the bathroom, coming out in five minutes in cotton pants and a T-shirt. He laid down on his bed, Dean pulling the covers over his shoulders. Sam clutched the Corgi to his chest, wrapping his arms around it in a death grip. Bobby settled into his bed, and Dean headed for the couch, turning off the lights. As he got ready to lay down on the cushions, he took one last glance at Sam. Sam was laying on his side, gripping the dog and pulling his knees up to his chest as he trembled. Dean sighed and got up, heading for Sam's bed.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean whispered as he approached the side of the bed that Sam had his back facing. Dean peeled the covers up and settled in beside him, reaching a hand out to his shoulder. "Hey, I'm here. I got you." Sam rolled over and curled into Dean's chest, still gripping the dog. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam, setting his chin on the top of Sam's head, just like when they were kids. Sam trembled in Dean's arms. "Hey, hey, it's okay. You're gonna be okay. Nothing is gonna get you while I'm here, okay?"

Sam eased slightly in Dean's arms, allowing his legs to straighten out slightly. His shoulders relaxed as he leaned into Dean's safe presence. Slowly, Dean felt Sam slip into sleep as he comforted him.

_Damn, I hope Bobby doesn't wake up._


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Dean opened his eyes and lifted his head, looking over at Sam. The kid lay twisted in the covers, clutching the stuffed animal. As Dean sat up on the edge of the bed, he looked over to see Bobby still asleep.

_Thank God I woke up before him._

Dean approached the small bathroom, taking his shower before Sam woke up. As he tousled his wet hair with a towel, he approached Sam again, checking on the bruises on his face. They were a little darker, but were healing. As Dean threw the towel back into the bathroom, Sam moaned and rolled over, staring at Dean.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean said as he sat next to him on the bed. "You sleep okay?" Sam just stared at him, frowning. "What's the matter? You have a bad dream?"

Sam still frowned as he opened his mouth to answer. "There was girl."

"A girl?" asked Dean. "What kind of girl?"

"Hair like you," Sam explained.

"Okay, she's blonde," Dean deduced. Dean hesitated suddenly. He knew of only two blondes in Sam's life: Mom and Jessica. "What was she wearing?"

"Nothing."

Dean's eyes widened at Sam's innocent answer. _Oh, man, I don't want to hear this._

"Why she not wear anything, Dean?" asked Sam.

"Uh…I-I…don't know," stuttered Dean. "Maybe she was hot." _Oh, kill me now._

"She in trouble?"

Dean looked at him. "Why would you think she's in trouble?"

"She scream."

_Just rub it in my face, will you?_

"Sam, she's not in trouble," explained Dean. "It was just a dream. Everything's fine."

Sam sat up in the bed, stomach rumbling. "I hungry."

"Well, what do you say we go to the diner?" suggested Dean. "That waitress Jessica might give you another special treat."

_Ah! Somebody stop me right now!_

"Come on," Dean said as he dragged Sam to his feet. "Go take your shower."

Sam grabbed his change of clothes from Dean's arms and headed for the bathroom, closing the door. Dean approached Bobby's bed.

"Hey, Bobby, wake up," Dean said, prodding Bobby's shoulder. "We're headed to breakfast."

"Alright," said Bobby as he sat up. He glanced up at Dean. "Do you mind?"

"Yeah, sorry," said Dean as he turned and absorbed himself in research so Bobby could change.

Five minutes later, he heard the sounds of Bobby's wheelchair making its way across the room. Another five minutes, and Sam came out of the bathroom, clothes in place and hair wet.

"Hold it right there, mister," Dean told him. "Brush your teeth."

Sam went back into the bathroom and brushed his teeth. As Sam stood by the door and waited for Dean to put his jacket on, Dean turned towards him.

"Hey, by the way, how old are you?" asked Dean.

"Five," Sam answered with a smile, plucking up his stuffed animal.

Dean looked at Bobby, smiling. "Well, it's progress." Dean unlocked the door and opened it, letting Bobby wheel himself out. Sam followed Dean out, clinging to his big brother's arm. Dean turned towards Sam, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You thinking about those bullies?" Sam nodded, eyes wide and terrified. "Hey, listen to me. If anyone is ever mean to you like that, you fight back." Sam's eyes widened at that. "If anyone hurts you or wants to hurt you, you hurt them. Okay?"

Sam nodded at that as Dean led him to the Impala.

* * *

"Oh, my gosh! What happened?" Jessica exclaimed, setting her order pad on the table and crouching next to the table, putting a gentle hand on Sam's shoulder.

"We were at Walmart, and this group of punks got a hold of him, teased him," Dean explained.

"Well, I hope you got a hold of them," said Jessica.

"He did!" Sam beamed suddenly. "He hitted them good! Dean kick ass!"

They all laughed at that.

"Well, I bet they deserved it," said Jessica.

"Mommy!"

A five-year-old ran up to Jessica and held out a picture colored in crayons.

"That's amazing, sweetie!" said Jessica, wrapping her arms around the boy. "Being a good boy?"

"Yeah, Mommy," the boy giggled before running back to a booth to color some more. Jessica stood up.

"Cute kid," said Dean. "He's yours?"

"Yeah," said Jessica. "His father is, uh…not in the picture." She paused, staring at the floor. "He was never in the picture."

Dean caught her meaning, eyes softening. "I'm sorry. They ever catch the guy?"

Jessica nodded. "Just before Michael was born…not that it did me much good at that point." She looked back at her son. "Not that I regret it. He's a good boy."

"He is," said Dean.

Sam suddenly got to his feet. Dean was about to follow when Bobby put his hand on Dean's shoulder. Sam walked over to the booth that Michael sat at, stopping next to him.

"Hi," said Sam.

"Hi," said Michael.

"I Sammy," said Sam.

"I Michael," the boy answered.

"Can I play?" asked Sam.

Michael smiled. "Yeah."

Sam smiled and sat down opposite Michael, grabbing a piece of paper. Michael handed Sam half of his crayons, and the two went to work.

Jessica smiled. "Looks like they've made friends."

"Yeah," said Dean. "Uh, go ahead and give Sam two pancakes, eggs, bacon and a glass of chocolate milk."

Dean felt a small touch of guilt for letting Sam eat all this junk food, but the kid ate nothing but salads and health drinks. He can afford to pig out for a few weeks.

"I'll have the special, side of bacon and a coffee," said Dean.

"Same here," said Bobby.

"Okay," said Jessica, heading to place their order.

"Sam's doing okay," said Bobby. "I think what you did last night helped."

Dean rolled his eyes and dropped his head into his hands. "You were supposed to be asleep."

"Relax," said Bobby. "Just 'cause you comforted your brother when he was scared doesn't make you a girl."

"Yeah, whatever," muttered Dean.

"That my brother," said Sam. Dean looked over to see Sam showing Michael a picture he drew. It was a stick figure in what appeared to be a brown leather jacket next to what was supposed to be a black Impala. "He protect me. He best brother ever."

Dean smiled as Jessica brought their food out. "Hey, Sammy, come eat."

Sam looked up at Dean and back at Michael. "I see you later."

"Okay," said Michael.

Sam got up and sat back down at their table, digging into his food.

"Hey, Sam, what do you say we go to the park today?" asked Dean. Sam's face lit up as he tore into his food with a new fervor. "Whoa, slow down, kiddo. You don't wanna choke, do you? We have plenty of time."

Sam slowed down at Dean and Bobby laughed.

* * *

"Yeah, Sammy, you got it!" exclaimed Dean as the soccer ball rolled past him.

"Yeah!" Sam yelled, smile on his face.

Dean got the ball, kicking it towards Sam. Sam took the ball, running towards Dean as he kicked it. Dean made a fake lunge for the ball, letting it sail past him.

"Aw, you got it past me again!" said Dean.

"Ha, I bestest!" exclaimed Sam.

Dean laughed. "You sure are. Better than me."

Sam stopped suddenly, smile disappearing. "Really?"

"You bet."

Sam lit up, smile reappearing. "I bestest!"

"I'll get the ball," Dean told him. He ran over to the tree where the ball had come to rest. As he turned around, he spotted an empty field. "Sam?" Dean dropped the soccer ball.

_Oh, I am not in the mood for hide and seek._

"Sam!" Dean called, searching the trees lining the field with his eyes. "Sammy!"

Dean reached the spot where Sam had been, spotting something in the grass. Dean bent down, picking up a piece of paper, that read:

Say bye to Sammy.

Dean put his finger to a residue on the edge of the paper and brought it to his nose.

_Rotten eggs…_

"Sulfur," Dean muttered as he looked around the field.

The demons had finally gotten word that Sam was vulnerable…and were taking him to see Lucifer.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

**Sorry about the delay. I had this chapter ready two days ago but they wouldn't let me submit it until now.**

**Okay, I ran into some inconsistencies. So, in my version, it's still set after "Sympathy for the Devil," but Meg never appeared in the episode, and they found out Sam was Lucifer's vessel when Zachariah told them about Dean and the Michael sword. Sorry, had to make it work.**

"Sammy!" Dean yelled in desperation, knowing it was useless. The demons had already teleported with him, or however the hell they get around. "Dammit, Sam!"

A cry echoed across the clearing, and Dean jerked toward the sound, hope rising.

_They didn't take him yet!_

Dean rushed toward the noise, plunging into the trees and coming to a halt about fifteen feet in.

"Well, well, well, Deano," said a brunette woman as she wrapped an arm around Sam's throat. "It's nice to see you again. Maybe I'll get to finish what I started."

Dean frowned. "Ruby?"

"Mm, guess again," said the demon.

Dean frowned, trying to place that smartass, slutty tone. The last time he heard it, it had come from…Sam. "Meg?"

"Oh, you remember me," said Meg. "I'm touched."

"You're gonna be a lot more if you don't let him go," growled Dean.

"Ooh, you promise?" smirked Meg. She leaned her head towards Sam's ear. "I can think of something a whole lot more fun. What do ya say, Sammy?" Sam whimpered a little, tears filling his eyes.

"Shut up, you bitch!" yelled Dean, starting to charge forward.

"Ah, ah, ah…" warned Meg, clutching Sam harder. "Wouldn't want to get Sammy hurt, would we?" She smiled wickedly and started laughing.

Sam suddenly brought his boot down on Meg's foot. Meg let go of Sam's neck in shock, and Sam spun around. He brought his fist forward into Meg's mouth, drawing blood. Before Meg could react, Sam placed his hands on Meg's shoulders and shoved her back.

The sound of Meg hitting a tree snapped Dean out of his wide-eyed stupor. He rushed toward Meg, pinning her to the tree by her throat.

"Run back to the car, Sam!" Dean shouted.

Dean reached into his jacket and pulled out a flask of holy water, spraying it onto Meg's face. She screamed as smoke flew into the air. Dean quickly whipped out Ruby's knife and raised it, but Meg screamed, black smoke flying out of her mouth. After checking the body—she was dead—Dean hurried back to the Impala. He couldn't see Sam inside.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled, flying towards the Impala. At the sound of Dean's voice, Sam popped up in the backseat. Dean threw the back door open, leaning into the car and pulling Sam into his arms. "You okay? You hurt?"

"No," said Sam. "I'm okay."

Dean just barely registered Sam's use of a full, complete sentence. Dean pulled away from Sam, hands on Sam's shoulders. "Sammy, you just beat up Meg."

Sam's puppy dog frown appeared. "Was I bad?"

"No, Sam." Dean smiled at his little brother. "You were awesome!" Sam lit up. "You did what I told you to do! You fought back!"

"I kicked ass?" asked Sam.

Dean laughed. "You kicked major ass! I'm so proud of you!"

"Really?"

"You bet. Now, let's get out of here."

* * *

Dean and Sam stumbled through the motel door, laughing. Sam flopped onto his bed, clutching his stomach.

"What's going on?" asked Bobby.

Dean calmed down enough to breathe. "We had a little visit from Meg."

"Meg?" asked Bobby in worry.

"You should have seen Sam, Bobby," said Dean. "He kicked Meg's ass."

"He did?" asked Bobby.

"I did!" exclaimed Sam from the bed.

"Did you see her face, Sammy?" said Dean. "She wasn't expecting much of a fight from you. That'll teach her to mess with my Sammy."

"Where is she?" asked Bobby.

Dean glanced at Sam. "I took care of her." He looked at Bobby. "By the way, he's six now."

"So soon?"

"I think the fight jolted him forward a little."

"So, let's figure this out," Bobby speculated. "He's aged from newborn to six in…four days. At that rate, he'll be back to normal in…eighteen days tops."

"That's almost three weeks," Dean told Bobby, exasperated.

"You'd rather him be stuck like this?"

Dean sighed. "I know, you're right. Sorry." He stopped when he realized Sam had been talking the past minute or so.

Dean looked over at the other bed to find Sam with one of his books in his lap, reading to himself.

"Sammy," said Dean. Sam looked up at him. "You can read?"

Sam smiled. "Yeah, I can read."

"That's great, kiddo," said Dean.

Sam went back to his book.

* * *

Dean rolled over, back screaming in protest.

_Ugh, this couch is a bitch._

He sat up, looking over at Sam's bed. The kid was curled on his side, stuffed animal held loosely in his hands. Dean laughed a little as he got up and went about his morning routine. As he turned off the light in the bathroom, he heard a thrashing from the beds. He looked over to see Sam tossing about in the covers.

"Sam," Dean said as he rushed over, kneeling next to the bed. "Sam, wake up."

Sam scrunched his face up in pain, tossing his head back and forth. He let out a scream.

Bobby jolted up in his bed, looking over at Sam. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," said Dean. He suddenly realized. "Oh, shit. He's probably remembering something."

"You think?"

"Look at our lives, Bobby. It's enough to make anybody scream." Dean placed a hand on Sam's forehead. "It's okay, Sammy." Sam shifted underneath Dean's hand, breathing hard and deep. "You're okay."

Sam's eyes flew open, and he flung himself into Dean's arms. Sam wrapped his long arms around Dean, gripping him tight.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Dean soothed as he embraced Sam. Sam trembled under his arms, leaning his head into Dean's neck. "I got you. I got you. You're safe." Sam's torso hitched under Dean's hands, and Dean felt tears against his neck. "Hey, hey, it's over. I'm here."

"I want Mom," Sam muttered.

Dean froze, gently pulling Sam away from him. Sam's eyes were red and puffy, tears falling down his face. "Sam…Mom's…not here right now." Dean just didn't have the heart to break it to him yet.

Sam's frown deepened. "Is she dead?"

Dean looked into his eyes. "Why do you ask?"

"I saw her," Sam told him. "She was on the ceiling…fire everywhere." Dean froze, lowering his eyes. "Did that happen?"

Dean looked back up at Sam. "Yeah, Sam. That's how she died. It was a house fire. She's…been gone for a while now."

Sam looked up at Dean, fresh tears falling. "Dad's dead, too, isn't he?"

Dean felt a tear falling down his cheek as he frowned, nodding. "Yeah…Yeah, he is."

Sam fell against Dean's chest, sniffling, and Dean embraced him again. Dean let Sam cry all he could.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," said Dean. "I'm so sorry."

Sam sniffled again, pulling away from Dean. "I'm okay."

"You sure?" asked Dean.

Sam nodded, wiping the tears away. "I'm hungry."

Dean chuckled. "Okay. Hop in the shower."

Sam walked into the bathroom, closing the door. Bobby pulled himself into the wheelchair as Dean got a cup of water. He began taking a drink.

"Dean," Sam called from the bathroom, "why am I so big?"

Dean choked on his water, coughing as he lowered the cup. He looked over at Bobby to see the older hunter looking at him like 'I ain't going near this one.' Dean looked back at the door. "Why do you ask?"

"You're older than me, but I'm taller," Sam went on.

Bobby laughed as Dean rolled his eyes, relaxing.

"I'll, uh…I'll explain after your shower, okay?" said Dean.

"Okay," said Sam. A minute later, the shower began running.

"What are you gonna tell him?" asked Bobby.

"The truth," said Dean. Bobby stared at him. "I mean, he's, what, six, seven? He was about that age when he found Dad's journal for the first time and I told him everything. He can handle it."

"Okay," said Bobby.

Twenty minutes later, Sam came out of the bathroom, washed and dressed.

"Ready for breakfast, buddy?" asked Dean.

Sam nodded. "What about what you were gonna tell me?"

"After breakfast," said Dean. "I promise to tell you, but I'm hungry, and I bet you are, too."

Sam nodded again. "Okay. Do you promise?"

Dean smiled. "I promise."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

"Sam, aren't you gonna take Toby with you?" asked Dean.

Sam stopped at the door, looking back at the stuffed animal and face flushing. "I'm not taking him where people can see me."

Dean nodded. _Looks like Sam's growing up…again._

They piled into the Impala, heading to the diner. Once again, Jessica served them.

"You're here all the time, you know that?" Dean pointed out.

"Well, gotta work for a living," said Jessica. "Besides, I get good company when I work."

"We'll have the usual," said Dean.

"Okay," said Jessica. She looked at Sam. It had been two days since his attack, and the bruises were beginning to fade. "You look like you're doing better."

"I am," said Sam. He looked around. "Where's Michael?"

"He's not here today," Jessica told him. "He'll be here tomorrow."

Sam smiled. "Okay."

Jessica looked over at Dean. "He's doing better."

"Yeah," said Dean. "He's remembering some stuff, and he's acting a little better. He can do a lot more stuff on his own now. He's getting better."

Jessica smiled. "I'll get your food." She left the table to place their order.

"Hey, Sam," came a voice behind Dean. "You're looking good."

Dean turned to see the security guard Mike heading their way. "Hey, Mike." Dean looked back at his brother. "Sam, you remember Mike?"

Sam nodded. "You gave me ice cream."

Mike laughed. "That I did. It's good to see you again."

"Thank you," said Sam, smiling as Jessica brought their food out.

"I'll leave you to your meal then," said Mike.

"See you later," Dean told him as he looked down at his plate. He frowned at the small missing portion of his pecan pie. "What the…Where's my—"

He looked over to see Sam with a guilty look on his face, chewing. Dean's eyes widened.

"Sam, did you eat some of my pie?" asked Dean.

Sam swallowed quickly. "No."

"Sam!" Dean demanded, raising his voice a little.

Sam looked down at his plate. "Maybe."

Dean swore silently. "Bobby, call an ambulance!"

Sam looked up at him. "What's wrong, Dean?"

"Sam, that was **pecan** pie!" Dean told him.

"So?"

"You're allergic to nuts!"

Sam frowned. "What's allergic mean?"

"It makes you sick," Dean explained. Sam looked down at his empty fork in shock. "Dammit, Bobby, hurry!"

"I'm going, I'm going," said Bobby, dialing on his cell. "Doesn't he have an Epi pen?"

"He hasn't carried one in ten years," said Dean frantically. "He's so careful with what he eats." Sam's eyes grew wide as he began coughing. "Son of a bitch, hurry!"

Dean watched in horror as Sam grabbed at his throat, wheezing.

"What's happening?" asked Jessica as she ran over.

"Nut allergy," Dean explained.

"Ambulance on its way," said Bobby. "Five minutes."

"Sammy, breathe," coaxed Dean as tears fell down Sam's face. "Come on, let's get him down."

Dean and Jessica helped ease Sam out of his chair and onto the floor, making it easier for him to breathe. Sam's chest spasmed as he tried to draw breath, but his throat was practically swelled shut. Dean waited anxiously as Sam struggled. He was so sure he'd never have to see Sam go through this again.

_Why did you have to ditch the Epi pen, Sammy?_

Dean grasped Sam's hand, clutching it tight. "You'll be okay. I'm here. You're gonna be okay."

Sam clutched at Dean's hand until his eyes slid closed and his hand loosened.

"Dammit!" said Dean.

He bent over his brother, tilting his head back. He pinched off Sam's nose and put his mouth over Sam's. Dean breathed into Sam's mouth, trying to force some air past his obstructed throat. After two breaths, Dean compressed Sam's chest about fifteen times. He breathed for him again, and started compressions.

"Come on, Sammy! Don't die on me!"

"Move!"

Dean turned to see a paramedic kneeling next to him. He shifted back to allow the man access to Sam. The paramedic lifted Sam's eyelids to assess his pupils, and then he lowered his ear to Sam's mouth to listen for breathing. The paramedic turned to his bag and pulled out a syringe and bottle of medicine labeled 'Epinephrine.' He filled the syringe and reached down, pulling Sam's sleeve up. He injected the drug into Sam's brachial artery at the inside of his elbow.

The second paramedic pulled out an oxygen mask and respiratory pump. He placed the mask over Sam's mouth and nose, and began squeezing the pump. Sam began opening his eyes, looking up at the paramedics. He jolted on the floor, eyes widening.

"Sir, calm down," said one of the paramedics.

Sam just began struggling against them, sluggishly waving his arms to get rid of the two strangers that hovered over him.

"Move!" Dean yelled, darting forward and pulling his brother into his arms. He wrapped his arms around Sam's chest. "It's me, Sammy. It's okay. They're here to help you. Calm down, little brother." Sam began settling in Dean's arms, breathing evening out. "That's it, Sammy. Breathe. You okay?" Sam nodded slightly. "Can these two guys help you now?"

Sam clutched at Dean's jacket, opening his mouth but nothing came out. His throat was still too swollen to speak, but Dean could read the look in his eyes: absolute fear.

"Don't be scared, Sammy. I'm here. I won't let them hurt you." Sam nodded and relaxed in Dean's arms. The EMTs looked at Dean, confused. "We were in a car accident, and he hit his head."

The two men nodded before helping Sam onto a gurney. Dean stood by the gurney, keeping a hold of Sam's hand as they wheeled him toward the ambulance.

"Don't worry about Bobby," Jessica said as she followed. "I'll drive him to the hospital."

"Thank you," said Dean as they loaded Sam into the ambulance. "Here." Dean took out the keys to the Impala, tossing them to her. "Take my car."

Dean climbed into the ambulance and sat next to Sam. Sam turned wet and terrified eyes onto Dean.

"Check this out, Sammy. We get to ride in an ambulance. How cool is that?"

A small smile appeared on Sam's face as he breathed shallowly, slight wheezes still audible.

"We'll get you all fixed up, okay?" said Dean.

Sam nodded, opening his mouth to speak again, but his vocal cords were still a little swollen.

"It's okay, buddy," Dean told him. "You'll be able to talk later. Then we'll talk about what I was gonna tell you after breakfast. How does that sound?"

Sam smiled as he closed his eyes and fell asleep. Dean reached forward and placed a palm on Sam's cheek. Sam unconsciously leaned into Dean's touch, worry lines disappearing.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Dean felt the blanket shift under his head, and he jolted up, looking over at Sam. Sam shifted in the hospital bed, turning onto his back. He slowly opened his eyes, looking over at Dean.

"Hey," said Dean. "Feel better?"

Sam nodded. "How long?"

"You've been here for about five hours," Dean told him. "You slept the whole time." Sam looked around at the foreign environment of the hospital room. "Nervous?"

Sam nodded again. "Tell me something."

"You want me to talk to you?" asked Dean. Sam nodded. "How about what you asked me…about why you're so big?"

"Yeah."

"Well, uh…You see, those stories about ghosts and witches and vampires…" Sam nodded. "It's all real. We hunt them. Mom died because a demon killed her. So…Dad started training us, and the three of us began hunting supernatural things." Sam's eyes widened. "Don't worry. The demon's dead. I killed him. But, um…You're really twenty-seven years old. A hunt we were on about a week ago was about a ghost. The ghost scrambled people's brains, turning them into newborns mentally. Then he got to you. But I found out that if I was around you, you began learning. You started aging and remembering stuff. So now I'm trying to get you back to normal. Understand?"

Sam frowned, working through it. "So…it's a hex of some sort that aged me backwards, but mentally. And now I'm aging back to twenty-seven?"

Dean nodded, frowning. "How old are you?"

"Eight," Sam answered.

"When did you hit seven?"

"This morning."

Dean realized. "After you remembered about Mom and Dad."

"Yeah," said Sam. He looked down at his hands. "What about that girl?"

"What girl?" asked Dean.

"The girl I dreamed about the other night," said Sam. "The…_naked_ one." Sam said the word 'naked' in a near whisper, ashamed to say it.

Dean smiled. "She, uh…was your girlfriend Jessica. You went off to college for a few years and met her there. I don't know how long you two were together, but you were pretty serious."

"What happened to her?" asked Sam.

"She…" Dean took a deep breath. "She died a few years ago. That's why you got back into hunting with me…to find the thing that killed her."

"Did we?" asked Sam.

"Yeah," said Dean. "It was the same thing that killed Mom."

Sam frowned. "So…this demon was after **me**?"

Dean hung his head. "Uh…maybe. We don't know." Dean looked back up to see Sam nod solemnly and look away from Dean, hurt. Dean shook his head.

_I don't want to tell him, but…one of the things that stressed Sam so much this past year was me not trusting him…not telling him the truth._

"Okay," said Dean, "but don't say I didn't warn you." Sam looked over towards his brother, intrigued. "Back in 1973, this Yellow-Eyed Demon killed Mom's parents…and Dad. Then Mom made a deal to bring Dad back. The deal was the demon could drop by the house in ten years for something. November 2, 1983, your six-month birthday, the demon came to your nursery and…dripped blood into your mouth."

Sam frowned. "He what?"

"He infected you with demon blood," said Dean, hating every second he was talking. "Then Mom came in and tried to stop him, so he killed her. Dad trained us after that, and while you were at college, you started having dreams that Jessica was going to die the way Mom did. A few days later, she did."

"So, it was a vision?"

Dean nodded. "You had another dream about a woman. Then the next time you had a vision dream, you started having them while you were awake. You'd get a headache and then a vision. You had these for about two years until we killed Yellow-Eyes. Then they just stopped. Long story short, you started using your abilities again, but instead of visions, it was exorcising demons and sending them to hell. Then you got stronger and could kill demons. You went after this demon Lillith, who was breaking the sixty-six seals."

"What are those for?"

"Freeing Lucifer. You tried to kill Lillith before she could break the final seal, and you did, but what no one told us was that Lillith's death was the final seal. Once you killed her, it freed Lucifer. Now, we're trying to find a way to kill the devil."

"How do you kill the devil?"

"Well, that's what we're trying to figure out."

"And I freed him? It's all my fault?"

"No," Dean insisted. Sam gave him an incredulous look—the same look he always gave Dean at that age. "It wasn't, Sam. It wasn't all your fault. You may have broken the final seal, but I broke the first one."

Sam stared at him. "How?"

"Well, you see, you were killed, so I made a deal to bring you back. They gave me a year before they dragged me to hell, and while I was down there…they tortured me. After a while, I couldn't take it anymore and made a deal to torture others so they would stop torturing me. Turns out, that was the first seal. So you listen to me when I say it wasn't your fault. It was both of ours; we didn't know. We couldn't have known. We were tricked and played and hell knows what else." Sam stared at the sheets, jaw hanging open. "You okay?"

"Our lives suck," muttered Sam.

"You're telling me." Dean frowned. "I'm sorry."

Sam looked up at him. "Sorry for what?"

"For telling you. You shouldn't have to deal with this now, or at any time. I shouldn't have told you."

"No, Dean," said Sam. "I'm glad you told me. It was the right thing to do. It's good to know I can always trust you to be honest with me and not treat me like a child…just like Christmas that one time."

"What one time?"

"When I gave you that amulet."

Dean smiled. "You remember that, huh?"

"Just came to me a few seconds ago," nodded Sam.

"So…that's what you want?" asked Dean, trying to get an understanding into Sam's psyche. "You want me to treat you like an adult?"

"Yeah," said Sam. "I mean, I can't be sure since I have no memory of the past twenty years, but…I would think that we grew apart because I was sick of being treated like a kid when I wasn't."

"How do you know we grew apart?"

"The way you talked. Kinda sounded like we went separate ways at some point. And what probably led to that for me is the fact that you always treat me like your kid brother." Dean opened his mouth to say just that, but Sam waved him off. "And, yeah, I am your kid brother, but, as you can see, I'm not a kid anymore, Dean. You gotta let me make my own decisions. You gotta let me grow up."

Dean nodded, taking that in. "I can't promise anything, but I'll try." He looked up at his little brother. "Thanks."

"No problem," said Sam. "And just because I want you to back off, that doesn't mean I hate you or I don't love you."

"Oh, don't start that shit again," groaned Dean. Sam laughed. "By the way, you doing okay?"

"Yeah," said Sam. "I feel better."

"What do you say we get out of this hellhole?" asked Dean. "And no more pecan pie. You got that?"

Sam laughed as Dean headed to make arrangements to get Sam out of the hospital.

**Is there anything you guys want to see happen with Mental De-Age Sam? Any ideas before he grows up?**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Dean frowned as he put down his magazine.

_What the hell is that?_

Dean looked around the motel room, trying to place the sound. They had brought Sam home that morning, and Bobby was out grabbing them some lunch while Sam slept. Dean straightened in his chair as he heard it again. He looked over towards Sam's bed, watching the kid turning under his blankets and whimpering.

_He's whimpering?!_

Dean dropped his magazine and jumped to his feet to rush over to Sam's bed. Sam suddenly moaned, deep and long, and Dean knew that moan could only mean one thing.

Dean scrunched his face up in disgust. _Oh, God…Oh, not this…Ugh…_

Dean sat back down on his chair, placing his face in his hands. _Oh, I don't want to deal with this…_

Sam gave another throaty moan as he squirmed on the bed. Dean shuddered and picked up his jacket, flinging it towards Sam.

"Hey!" Dean called as the jacket landed on Sam. Sam jumped and bolted up onto his elbows. "Rise and shine, Sammy!"

_Thank God,_ thought Dean as he picked up his magazine. He glanced up to see Sam leaning on his elbow on the bed, a look of worry on his face. "What is it, Sam?" Sam looked at the bed. "Sammy?"

"It's…" began Sam, face reddening. "It's my…"

Dean flashed back to that moan Sam made, and he looked down at Sam's crotch briefly and back up at his face, eyes widening. "Oh…" At Dean's reaction, Sam's eyes widened, and he began breathing faster. "Hey, hey, it's okay. It's normal, Sam. It happens to every guy. It's perfectly normal. You just don't want it happening in public."

Sam frowned. "Why not?"

Dean opened his mouth, not sure how to go on. He exhaled, frowning, and he groaned. "Oh, I was hoping not to have this conversation."

"What conversation?"

"The conversation a guy gets when he reaches a certain age."

"Well, you've already been through it once, right? So, just…do what you did last time. Unless…it was Dad who did it."

"Oh, no. It definitely wasn't Dad." Dean chuckled. "The most awkward conversation of my life."

"Well…just hurry and get it over with…like ripping off a band aid."

"Yeah, well, this is gonna be like ripping staples outta your nads," Dean mumbled. He sighed. "Go easy on me, okay? It was hard enough the first time around, but now that you're all grown up…physically…this isn't something adults usually talk about."

Sam nodded. "Okay. Just go at your own pace."

Dean nodded, working through his words. "You see…when a guy likes a girl…he feels a certain way, and…" He rolled his eyes. "Well…when two people like each other…they become…intimate. It's, uh…it's called sex. It's when—"

"You don't have to tell me about sex."

Dean stared at him. "I don't?"

Sam blushed. "I kind of already caught the visual."

Dean nodded. "Your dream."

"Yeah. Believe me, I know what sex is."

"Oh, thank God. Well…when a guy feels…like that…" Dean then pointed at Sam's waist, "that happens."

"Oh," said Sam, squirming on the bed.

"We good?" asked Dean.

"No," said Sam, blushing. "How do you…make it go away?"

Dean closed his eyes. "Oh, God."

* * *

Dean jolted on the bed as a knock came at the door.

"Just a minute, Bobby!" Dean called. He rushed over to the bathroom door. "Don't worry, Sammy. I'll make sure he can't hear anything." Dean turned the television on, turning up the volume. He hurried to the door and let Bobby in.

"What's going on?" asked Bobby as he wheeled into the room.

"What do you mean?" asked Dean as he closed the door.

"You're watching Sesame Street."

Dean turned to see Big Bird playing with a few kids on the screen. Dean turned back to Bobby. "Yeah, Sammy needed some cheering up, so I was picking up his toys." He took on a voice like the Dracula shapeshifter they killed a year ago. "One toy, two toys, bwa-ha-ha!" Bobby gave him a knowing look. "Okay, I was just flipping through the channels when you knocked."

"That's more like it," said Bobby. He grabbed the bags of food from on top of his legs and held them out to Dean. "Where is—"

"Taking a leak," Dean answered hastily, setting the food on the table.

Bobby narrowed his eyes. "Alright, what is he really doing?"

"Bobby, he really is taking a leak," said Dean. The bathroom door opened, and Sam emerged, wiping the remaining water on his hands onto his pants. "See?"

"Alright, go get some plates," Bobby told Dean as he wheeled to the table.

"Sam, come get some silverware," said Dean as he headed into the small kitchen. Sam followed him to the cabinets. Dean looked back to make sure Bobby was preoccupied, and he lowered his voice. "Feel better?"

Sam nodded. "Thanks for the tip."

"No problem," said Dean, grabbing some plates. "But we never speak of this again, agreed?"

"Agreed," said Sam, grabbing some forks and knives.

They headed back to the table, putting the plates on it. As they sat to eat, Sam looked up at Dean.

"I'm ten," Sam stated.

"You are?" asked Dean. Sam nodded. "How?"

"Well, I turned nine after our talk at the hospital, and then ten after, you know…this morning."

"What happened this morning?" asked Bobby.

"Oh, had a dream, remembered something," Dean told him.

"Well, you're moving along fast," said Bobby.

"Well," said Sam, looking up at Dean, "I'm learning."

"Hell, yeah," said Dean as they dug in.

**Sorry it's so short, but I'm having trouble getting this story done.**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Sam looked over at the toys that were scattered on the floor by his bed. Dean watched as he headed over and squatted down, picking up the two toy cars and standing. Sam stared at the cars for a moment before laughing.

"What?" asked Dean.

"I bet it was weird as hell to watch a grown man playing with toys like a toddler," said Sam.

Dean smiled. "Well, I always said you were the baby of the family, bitch." Dean froze suddenly, looking at Sam, afraid that he'd just offended him. _Did Sam remember their whole 'bitch, jerk' thing?_

Sam smiled. "Jerk."

Dean let out a breath of relief as he smiled at his brother. "Damn, kid, you're moving fast."

"What do you mean?" asked Sam.

"Well, you're already at ten, you're remembering a lot…We didn't expect it to go this quickly."

"I think it's a triggering process. All I needed was some pushes at the beginning, and now I'm pretty much healing myself with some help from you."

Dean frowned. "How old are you?"

"Eleven."

Dean shook his head in amazement. "Damn, kid."

Sam laughed as Bobby wheeled out of the bathroom.

"Ready?" asked Bobby.

"Yep," said Dean as the three of them headed to the Impala.

* * *

"How are you, Sammy?" asked Jessica.

"Better," said Sam. "I didn't know that I was allergic to nuts."

"Well, you sound like you're doing better," said Jessica.

"He is," said Dean. "He's remembering some more stuff, he's dealing with it well, and I explained what's going on and he seemed to understand alright. So, he's healing."

"Well, that's excellent," said Jessica. "Your usual?"

"Please," said Dean. Jessica left the table.

Sam looked over at Dean. "What was that about?"

"Well, with taking you places, we've had to explain why you were acting like a child," explained Dean. "So, I've been telling people that we were in a car accident, and you had a brain injury, but you're healing."

"Oh," said Sam, nodding. "Okay."

"I'll be right back, okay?" said Dean. He got up and headed for the restroom.

Sam could feel someone's eyes on him, but he couldn't figure out who was watching him.

Bobby suddenly felt in his pockets. "Crap. I think I locked the keys in the Impala when I was checking the trunk. Will you be okay by yourself for a minute?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," said Sam.

Bobby wheeled himself to the door, and Sam went back to the drawing he was doing on the back of the paper place setting on the table.

"Look at him," a voice to his left hissed.

Sam stopped and looked to his left. The only thing there was a booth of four guys; they looked to be a little younger than he supposedly was. They saw that he was looking at them, and one gave him a wicked smile as he waved. Sam turned back to his picture, trying to occupy himself until his brother or uncle returned.

"Did you hear what the other guy said about him?" said one of the guys. Sam stopped to listen. "He's brain damaged."

"No way," said another guy. "No wonder he's drawing on the placemat."

"What a dipshit," said a third guy.

Sam looked over at the booth again. The four of them snickered and waved at him again. Sam looked back down at the paper, frowning. He could hear the four of them laughing again.

"Hey, buddy," said Dean as he sat down; his back was facing the booth of punks. "Where's Bobby?"

"Getting his keys," said Sam, still staring at the table. He looked up at his brother, his voice low. "Dean, what's a dipshit?"

Dean froze, his eyes snapping up to Sam and widening. "What did you say?"

Sam averted his eyes. "It's nothing. I don't—"

"Sammy, where did you hear that word?"

Sam looked up at Dean, and his eyes flashed to the booth momentarily. Dean caught his gaze and turned in his seat to look at the four laughing guys. From Dean's profile, Sam could see Deans jaw clench and eyes narrow. Dean began to climb to his feet, but Sam grabbed his arm, forcing him back down into the chair.

"Dean, leave it," said Sam. "They're not hurting anybody."

"They're hurting you," Dean argued.

"Dean, calm down," said Sam.

"Yeah, Dean, calm down," said one of the guys. They started laughing again.

"What does it mean, Dean?" asked Sam.

"Dipshit is a very rude, offensive word for someone who is mentally challenged," Dean explained in a low voice.

"Worse than retard?" asked Sam, also in a low voice.

"Way worse," Dean confirmed.

Sam's eyes widened as he looked over at the booth.

"Ooh, better watch out," said one of the guys, the same one who'd been talking most of the time. He must be the ringleader. "The village idiot just figured it out." They began laughing again.

Dean was about to get up and begin pounding some ass when Sam grabbed his hand. Dean looked at him, question in his eyes.

"I got this," Sam growled out. He stood from his chair and walked over to the booth, leaning his arms on their table. "Village idiot, huh?"

The ringleader fake-cowered. "Ooh, guys, he looks pissed." They began laughing again.

"Not pissed," said Sam. "Just sorry."

"Sorry?" said the ringleader. "Sorry for what?"

"That you're a stupid, brain-dead dick," said Sam.

The four of them stopped laughing as Dean's jaw dropped in shock. The ringleader got out of the booth, standing over Sam.

"What did you call me?" he said.

Sam stood up, using his full height to tower over the guy, and the kid seemed to realize that the "village idiot" was a full head taller than him. At this point, everyone in the diner was watching.

"Oh, I think you heard me," said Sam.

"**You're** calling me stupid?" said the ringleader. "**You**?"

"Yeah, I am," said Sam. "'Cause you are. I went into pre-law at Stanford University, and scored a 174 on my LSAT. You know what that means? I can get into any college I want on a full-ride. And I have the mental capacity of a **twelve**-year-old." Sam cocked his head to the side. "What about you? You're, what, twenty-one? Got a college of your own you're going to? Moved out of your parents' house yet? Got a job? Got any plans for your future whatsoever?" At each mention of what Sam had accomplished, the kid's face fell, signifying that each statement was false for him. "That's what I thought."

Sam turned back to the table, sat back down and began drawing again. The kid stood in stunned silence for a moment before bolting for the door, his gang following him.

Dean looked at Sam, jaw hanging open. "Sammy…" Sam looked up at him. "I can't believe you just did that." Sam's face fell, thinking he was about to get in trouble. "That was awesome!"

Sam smiled. "Really?"

"Hell, yeah!" said Dean. "You put that dick in his place! Did you see his face? Ha-ha!" Bobby wheeled up to the table. "Bobby, you totally missed it! Sam just told off some punk that called him stupid!"

"I saw," said Bobby with a smile on his face. "I got in the front door just as you came back from the bathroom."

"Sam, you said something about twelve-years-old?" asked Dean.

"Yeah, I'm twelve now," said Sam.

"And you remember all that college stuff?" asked Bobby.

"Yeah, I do," said Sam. "It was like it just came back to me in that second."

Someone suddenly wrapped their arms around Sam from behind. "That was amazing, Sam!" Jessica stood next to him. "You really showed them. Thank you so much. Those guys are in here every week making trouble."

"They messed with the wrong guy," said Dean with a smile.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

"Dean, come on," said Sam. "I'll be perfectly fine. I mean, look at me. No one is gonna mess with me."

"The answer's no, Sam," said Dean.

The two of them were in the motel room that night. Sam wanted to go to the local mall and hang out, maybe have some fun, but Dean was worried that something would happen to Sam. The kid just seemed to attract trouble.

"I'll be fine," said Sam. "I mean, you'll be there. Nothing is going to get me."

"In case you don't remember, I was with you when Meg almost kidnapped you," said Dean.

"I was five, Dean," pleaded Sam. "I'm a teenager now. I'll be fine."

"Whoa, thirteen?" asked Dean. "When did that happen?"

"An hour ago," said Sam, "after you let me shave on my own for the first time."

"Well, still," said Dean. "I don't want you getting hurt."

"I won't, Dean," said Sam. "You'll be there, remember? I mean, it's just the mall."

"Walmart was just Walmart, and you nearly got beat to death."

"Okay, now that's exaggerating it a bit, don't you think? It was a few bumps and a twisted ankle."

"But they still got the jump on you with me there."

"I was four, Dean. I wandered off. I know how to act my apparent age now. No one will pick on me."

"It's not happening, Sam."

Sam groaned, raising his hands. "But I'm bored." Dean watched in stunned disbelief as the car keys, a few lore books and the TV remote floated off of the table behind Sam and into the air. "I'm just so sick of being cooped up in this room all the time." The objects began to rise further and further with Sam's rising agitation. "I just want to get out, just for one night. I don't care where we go. Just somewhere that's not here—"

"Sam…" said Dean.

"What?"

Dean pointed in stunned silence, and Sam turned, gasping when the objects suddenly dropped to the floor.

Sam looked back at Dean. "Was that me?"

Dean nodded slowly. "I think so…"

"But I thought you said I didn't have powers anymore."

"Well, not actively, but when you're stressed, I guess it just happens."

"Huh," said Sam. He turned to Dean. "So, we going out or not?"

"Uh…let me think about it a minute."

Sam huffed. "Of course you won't let me go."

Dean looked at him. "Now, wait a minute, that's not what I said."

"All I ask is to go somewhere for one night, but no, can't trust poor little Sammy to do even that."

"Sam, chill out."

"Why? Why should I listen to you?"

"Because I'm your brother, not to mention the oldest."

"I'm sixteen, Dean. I can take care of myself."

"Sixteen?"

"Guess all that demon blood pumping through me just now kinda jolted me forward three years."

"Well, that's good."

"Why? Does it mean you'll let me go?"

"Not acting like this, you're not."

"You can't treat me like a kid!"

"You are a kid!"

Sam laughed bitterly. "Have ya seen me lately?"

"Sam, you're still only sixteen years old! I am not letting you run off half-cocked just because you're getting cabin fever!"

"You can't tell me what to do!"

"You bet I damn well can!"

Sam suddenly lashed out with all of his six-foot-five strength and shoved Dean across the room. Dean hit the drawers and fell onto his knees on the floor, looking up at Sam.

"I hate you!" Sam snarled, snatching up his jacket and storming out the motel door, never looking back at his now deeply-wounded brother.

* * *

Bobby wheeled his chair back to their room from the front desk. He found Dean sitting against the dresser, the lamp and television on the floor next to him. The mirror on the wall above the dresser was shattered.

"What happened in here?" asked Bobby.

"Sam happened," said Dean quietly.

"Where is Sam?" asked Bobby.

"Gone," said Dean.

"What do you mean, gone?"

"We started arguing about him going somewhere. I didn't want him to get hurt, but he was saying that he was sixteen and didn't have to listen to me. I said no, he threw me across the room, and said, 'I hate you.'" Dean looked up at Bobby, face dejected and lost. "He told me he hates me."

"Huh," said Bobby, looking at the floor. He leaned forward and smacked Dean upside the back of the head. "You idiot! You just let him leave?!"

"He wanted to go," Dean defended. "Said he could handle himself."

"And you let him go out there alone?! What are you, stoned?!"

"He said he hated me," said Dean in a quiet voice, eyes downcast.

"Of course he said he hated you! He's sixteen! Every teenager says they hate their family! You remember how rebellious Sam was as a teenager! You're really gonna let him wander off on his own with Lucifer on the loose?!"

Dean looked up at Bobby, eyes widening. He surged to his feet. "Sammy!" He darted for the door, ripping it open and slamming to a stop.

A man stood in the doorway, smiling, his eyes turning black. "Hello, Dean."

* * *

Sam walked along the sidewalk of the local park, hands in his pockets.

"Who does he think he is?" Sam muttered, kicking a stone across the pavement. "I mean, it's like he thinks he's Dad."

_Well, he might as well be. He is the one that practically raised you…twice._

Sam realized that the reason Dean had said no was because he was just concerned about him. But was it too much to ask to go out for a night? Sam really did feel bad for exploding at his brother, especially that horrid sentence—"I hate you!"

Sam knew that it had been uncalled for: Dean had to be the responsible one. Sam did not hate him at all; he just felt smothered.

_I just need to blow off some steam before I do something I'll __**really**__ regret._

After making one round of the park, he began heading back to the motel to face the music. He was sure Dean would tear him a new one for running off in the middle of the night…with demons looking for him.

_Oh, yeah, real smart, Sam._

As Sam approached the room, he noticed shouts coming from the room. He edged to the window, peeking in to see Bobby immobilized on the floor. Dean was pinned to the floor as a man beat him. Sam ran to the Impala, opening the trunk and pulling out a saltgun. He loaded salt shells inside and grabbed some more shells. He grabbed the tin of salt and a flask of holy water. He also spotted a strange knife with weird symbols.

A memory popped into his head. _Ruby's knife…_

Sam grabbed it and rushed towards the room. He raised his leg, using his forward momentum to kick the door open. He raised his gun and shot the man. The man yelled in pain and turned to face Sam, eyes black.

"Get away from him!" Sam yelled.

The man charged for Sam, but Sam raised the knife, stabbing the demon in the heart. The demon's chest lit up, and the body collapsed to the ground. Sam dropped the knife and rushed to Dean's side.

"Dean!" said Sam frantically. "You okay?" Dean looked up at him, blood running down his face. He nodded as he tried to sit up. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Dean! I didn't mean any of it! I don't hate you! I just—"

"Sammy," said Dean, putting a hand on Sam's shoulder. "It's okay. I know you don't hate me."

"Here, come on," said Sam. He helped get Dean off the floor and onto the bed. "Wait there."

"Sammy, I'm fine," began Dean, beginning to get up and wincing as he did so.

Sam glared at him. "Wait…there."

Dean eased back onto the bed, giving Sam a salute. "Yes, sir."

Sam walked over to Bobby, using his upper body strength to lift him up into his wheelchair. Bobby wasn't hurt as bad as Dean, having been disabled. The demon had quickly discarded him and gone for Dean.

"You okay?" asked Sam.

"I'll be fine," said Bobby. "Help the idjit."

"Very funny," said Dean.

Sam pulled out the first aid kit and settled on the bed next to his injured brother. He began wiping the blood off of Dean's face with a wet washcloth. "Dean, I'm sorry. I never meant to say that."

"I know, Sammy," said Dean. "I remember what it's like to be a teenager. I know you didn't really mean it." Dean was trying to reassure his brother, but in truth, he felt glad that Sam had come back and taken it all back. He never thought he'd ever hear Sam tell him that he hated him. In fact, Sam had never said that, even when he really was a rebellious teenager. There had been fights, sure, but it never went that far.

"No, that's no excuse," said Sam, tending to Dean's bruised ribs now. "I had no right to say it. You take care of me, you watch out for me, you make sure I don't get hurt. You're like a father to me, and nothing can change what that means to me."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Come on, Sammy—"

"Don't even. You know you wanted to hear that."

Dean shrugged. "Doesn't mean I have to admit it. Ow…"

Sam winced, bringing the alcohol wipe away from the lacerations on Dean's chest. "Sorry."

"You're okay," said Dean as Sam went back to cleaning Dean's wounds. He looked at his little brother, watching the kid take care of him.

_He's right,_ Dean thought. _I'm not being fair to him. He's the one that this is all happening to._

"Tell you what," said Dean, drawing Sam's attention, "tomorrow, I'll take you out to that empty field just outside of town, teach you how to drive."

Sam's face lit up. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"You're really gonna let me drive the Impala?"

"Sure, I trust you."

"Thanks!"

"Gotta live up to my awesome big brother status somehow, right?"

Sam laughed. "Oh, yeah. 'Cause you're all that."

"Damn right I am."

"Sure, Dean. Whatever it takes to get you through the night."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

As Sam laughed and went back to bandaging Dean's deeper cuts, Dean realized just what he had told Sam.

_Sure, I trust you._

He hoped Sam remembered this conversation, and realized that Dean spoke the truth. He may not have been able to trust him after the whole 'final seal' thing, but now…now he had been given time to reflect on the past year of living hell that they had gone through. Now, he was beyond positive that he could trust Sam with his life.

_I just hope the kid remembers that._


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

"Alright, switch," said Dean as he threw the parking brake on. He climbed out of the driver's seat and headed to the passenger's side. Sam climbed into the driver's seat. "Okay, let's start slow. Step on the brake and pull the parking brake off."

Sam moved his right leg onto the brake, pressing down onto it. He reached forward and disengaged the parking brake.

"Alright, shift it into drive."

Sam grabbed the gearshift by the wheel, and shifted it to "D."

"Now, ease your foot onto the gas. Not too fast and both hands on the wheel. And watch out for potholes."

Sam put both hands on the steering wheel and took his foot from the brake to the gas. The Impala edged forward, gaining speed. Sam smiled as he turned the wheel, the car turning and heading back across the field.

"Take it easy now, alright?" said Dean, worried about his car.

Sam nodded as he maneuvered the car back across the field.

"See, you're a natural," said Dean. He looked back out the windshield, spotting a giant hole in front of the car. "Sam, look out!"

Sam spun the wheel, and the Impala swerved to the right. Sam turned the wheel the other way, and the car swerved to the left, veering around the hole. The Impala careened across the grass. Sam slammed on the brake and turned the wheel just right so the car spun around 180 degrees and stopped. Dean looked around at the car to find no damage whatsoever.

Dean stared at Sam, smiling. "Where did you learn how to do that?"

Sam smiled at him. "Dad."

"Awesome!" said Dean.

"Now I can get my license," said Sam.

"You already have a license, Sam."

Sam's face fell. "Oh, yeah." He looked down at the steering wheel.

Dean rolled his eyes and climbed out of the car. He walked to the trunk and opened it.

_I can't believe I'm doing this…_

Dean pulled his leather jacket and long-sleeved jacket off and dumped them in the trunk. He opened his spare duffel and pulled out one of his suit jackets. Dean pulled the jacket on over his t-shirt and rummaged through the trunk. He pulled a binder out of Sam's bag, along with some spare paper, a pen and Sam's driver's license.

Dean closed the trunk and headed back to the passenger door. He could tell that Sam was watching him intently, probably confused as hell. Dean opened the door and climbed in, closing the door.

"Alright, Mr. Winchester," said Dean, taking on a stern look. He adjusted his paper on the binder, putting the pen to it. "Time for your driver's test."

Sam frowned. "Dean, what are you doing?"

Dean pretended to look confused. "My name's not Dean." He smirked at Sam. "I'm Ozzy." Sam continued to frown at Dean. "Let's get a move on. I got other students to test out here."

Sam smiled and turned back to the steering wheel. He took the parking brake off and shifted into drive. As he proceeded to drive around the field, Dean pretended to make notes on his "file." Dean had him drive randomly around on the field, making sharp turns and sudden stops. He even had Sam do a couple donuts for fun. Sam parked the car.

"Well, that is the best driving I have seen in a long time," Dean pronounced. "Congratulations. You just passed your driver's test: Winchester style." Dean held the driver's license out.

Sam laughed, accepting the license. He stared down at it, smiling, and looked up at Dean. "  
Thank you."

Dean looked over at him. "Don't mention it." He got out of the car and changed back into his usual jacket as Sam joined him at the trunk. "I'd say this calls for a beer."

Sam looked up at him. "Seriously?"

"Hell, yeah," said Dean, closing the trunk. "Come on, my treat."

Sam smiled and got into the passenger seat, and Dean climbed into the driver's seat, heading for the nearest bar.

"And I'm eighteen now," said Sam.

"Hm," said Dean. "Nine more years to go." He started laughing a little.

"What?"

"Bobby said it would take, like, three weeks to get you back to normal. It's only been seven days so far. He obviously didn't take your freakishly large brain into account."

"At least I have one," Sam retorted.

Dean glanced over at Sam, surprised. _Oh, he wants to play it like that, huh?_ "Hey, someone had to get all the looks in the family, Einstein."

"Oh, yeah, 'cause you're the hottest thing on two legs."

"And don't you forget it," said Dean.

Sam laughed, and Dean soon joined in.

_Man, when was the last time we did this? _Dean thought. _Just hung around, poked fun at each other, like brother are supposed to…like we used to before angels and Ruby got in the way. I just hope that when Sam gets his memories back, that he can be Sammy again._

They soon pulled up to the bar and went inside.

Dean walked up to the bar. "Two beers, please."

The female bartender spotted Sam and smiled seductively. "Sure thing."

Sam smiled at her as she eyed him. She handed them two beers, giving Sam a sexy grin.

Dean led Sam to a table in the corner. He raised his beer. "Happy 18th, Sammy."

Sam smiled and clinked his bottle against Dean's. They took a drink. They sat there for a half hour, talking and laughing. Sam kept looking towards the bar, catching the bartender's eye.

Dean looked down at their empty bottles. "Oh, we're out." He began to get up.

Sam quickly stood up. "I'll get them."

Dean shrugged. "Okay."

Sam left the table and after a few moments, Dean looked over to see Sam chatting up the bartender. With a smile and a nod, Sam accepted the two beers and came back to the table. He sat down and handed Dean a beer.

"You fancy the bartender or something?" asked Dean with a coy smile.

Sam froze, blushed, and looked down at the table. "Maybe."

"Ha-ha, that's my boy!" said Dean.

Sam looked up and laughed a little. "I, uh…I gotta take a leak."

Dean nodded as Sam stood and left the table. After a few minutes, Dean got up also, heading for the bathroom. As he opened the door, someone said 'shh!' and a woman stifled her giggling. Dean smiled and shook his head as he made his way to one of the urinals, spotting two pairs of feet under a stall. As Dean began to relieve himself, he heard the pair kissing, resuming their make-out session. As Dean finished and began washing his hands, he looked into the mirror at the feet in the stall and froze.

_Those are Sam's shoes…_

There was another round of stifled giggling as the pair bumped lightly into the stall wall.

_So, that's why he's taking so long. Way to go, Sammy!_

Dean left the bathroom and headed back to their table, waiting as he drank his beer. Ten minutes later, Sam came back to the table with a little smile on his face, and he sat down.

"So…quickie in the bathroom with the bartender?" smirked Dean.

Sam froze, staring at Dean. "That was you in the bathroom?"

Dean laughed, taking a drink of beer as Sam blushed and buried his face in his hands. "Hey, it's okay. It's about time you got out there and enjoyed life. Especially after the last year."

Sam smiled. "Thanks."

"No problem, Sammy," said Dean.

Sam looked up at him with a serious look. "It's Sam."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh, not that again."

"What?"

"Your whole, 'It's Sam, not Sammy' thing. Give it a rest. You know you love it."

Sam laughed as he drank some more beer.

"What do you say we head back to the motel, quit worrying Bobby?"

"Yeah," said Sam. They abandoned their beers, with some cash, and left the bar.

* * *

Dean frowned as he looked over at Sam. His brother had just squirmed in his sleep on the bed, but seemed to settle now. Dean looked back down at his magazine until he heard the springs squeak again. Dean looked up to see Sam turning under the blankets. Dean watched as Sam turned his head in agitation; his face was screwed up in pain.

"Sam?" Dean called. Sam didn't answer. Apparently, he was still asleep.

_Well, that rules out physical pain…_ Dean thought.

Dean got up and approached Sam's bed. "Sam?" Sam jolted on the bed, clenching his fists. "Sam, wake up." Dean put his hands on Sam's shoulders, but Sam didn't respond. "Sam, come on, wake up!"

Sam was sweating slightly and breathing heavily. Dean put his hand to Sam's forehead, expecting to feel the cold and clammy skin underneath his hand like whenever Sam would get nightmares. What he did not expect was a raging fever.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

_He opened the front door of his apartment, walking inside carrying a duffel bag. As he pulled the key out of the lock and closed the door, he looked around the apartment._

"_Jess!" he called. "You home?"_

_He walked through the kitchen. On the counter was a plate of chocolate chip cookies, with a note in front of them that said, 'Missed you! Loved you!' He took a cookie, and ate it as he walked into the bedroom. He heard the shower running, so he sat on the bed, closed his eyes, and fell backwards onto the mattress. He lifted his arms and laced his hands behind his head. He felt something drip onto his forehead, and he twitched his head to the side, thinking he was maybe imagining it. Another drop fell on his head, and he moved his head again, slowly opening his eyes. As he gazed up at the ceiling, his eyes widened in horror and he gasped._

_Jessica lay on the ceiling, stomach sliced open and bleeding._

"_No!" he yelled._

_Jessica burst into flames, the fire spreading from underneath her body._

"_Jess!" he yelled, shielding his face from the flames that licked across the ceiling, setting the walls on fire._

_He could vaguely hear the front door burst open and someone call his name. Someone appeared in the doorway as he stared at Jessica's burning body._

"_Sam!"_

_He felt the person grab him from the bed, dragging him towards the door. He turned, fighting to get back towards Jessica._

"_No!" he yelled. "No!"_

"_We gotta get out of here," came Dean's voice._

"_Jess! No!"_

_The room erupted into fire as Dean dragged him out of the apartment._

* * *

"Jess!" Sam yelled as he sat up in bed, breathing heavily.

"Sam!" Dean said as he braced his hands on Sam's shoulders. "It's okay. It was just a dream."

Sam looked around the motel room with wide eyes, trying to slow his breathing down.

"You okay?" asked Dean. Sam nodded as he put a hand to his head. "You were dreaming about Jessica, weren't you?"

Sam nodded again. "I could…I could see it…It was so real."

Dean nodded. "You're remembering." Sam nodded. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-one," said Sam.

"Maybe that's why you're running a fever. The memories and everything are finally catching up, taxing your system."

Sam stared at the blanket, feeling a wave of vertigo wash over him. "Dean…" His voice sounded like it was coming back to him from a long tunnel.

"Sam?" asked Dean.

Sam wearily looked up at Dean. "I…don't feel…"

"Don't feel what?"

"I think…"

Sam trailed off as his eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed onto the bed.

"Sam!" yelled Dean, shaking his brother's shoulders. Sam was out cold. "Dammit."

* * *

_He was pinned to the wall, unable to move as a blonde woman stood in front of him. She had a childlike expression on her face._

"_So, is this your big plan, huh?" came Dean's voice. He looked over to see Dean seemingly pinned to a dining room table, glaring at the blonde. "Drag me to hell. Kill Sam. And then what? Become queen bitch?"_

"_I don't have to answer to puppy chow," said the blonde. She moved from in front of him and walked over to the door that had black powder on the floor in front of it. She grabbed hold of the door handle and looked at Dean. "Sick 'em, boy."_

_He looked over at his brother, who looked back at him from his spot on the table. The blonde opened the door and the dust blew away as she laughed. Something grabbed hold of Dean's leg and dragged him onto the floor as he yelled. Dean's chest began to rip open, blood pouring from him as he yelled._

"_No!" he heard himself yell. "Stop!"_

_The blonde just looked over at him, smiling, and back down at Dean. Dean yelled as he turned over onto his stomach._

"_STOP IT!" he yelled._

_Dean's back suddenly split open, blood spraying up. He was rolled onto his back, and his chest began ripping open again, more blood spilling out as he yelled._

"_No!" he yelled. "Stop it!"_

_Dean looked up at him, his yells gone now. He fought for breath as blood poured out of him. His head fell back onto the floor._

"_NO!" he yelled._

"_Yes," the blonde smiled at him._

_She raised her hand towards him, and a white light burst out of it, soaring towards him. It enveloped him, and he crouched against the floor, trying to shield himself from the light. The light suddenly retracted, and the blonde stared in shock at him. He looked up at her, noticing that she had backed off. He stood up, advancing on her._

_The blonde raised her hand. "Back." He kept walking towards her. "I said, back."_

_He bent down and picked up the knife he had dropped earlier. He straightened up, raising the knife. "I don't think so."_

_As he pulled his hand back to stab her, she flung her head back, screaming. Black smoke flew out of her mouth, soaring up into the vent in the ceiling. The body collapsed to the ground next to Dean. He lowered the knife, slowly approaching his brother's dead body. He knelt next to Dean, lifting his torso from the floor and into his arms. Dean's eyes were staring straight ahead._

"_No…" he sobbed. "No…Dean…"_

_He pulled Dean into his arms, crying._

* * *

"Dean!" Sam yelled as he jolted up in bed again.

"What?" asked Dean as he ran to the bed. "What is it? I'm here." He put a hand on Sam's shoulder.

Sam clasped onto Dean's hand, needing that contact to assure himself that it had indeed just been a memory and that Dean really was standing in front of him. "I saw it…I saw it…You were…"

"I was what?" asked Dean.

"It was Lillith," said Sam shakily. "She…"

Dean nodded, understanding. "The night I died." Sam nodded. "Hey, it's okay. It's over. I'm here now." Sam breathed a little easier, closing his eyes and rubbing his palm against his burning forehead. "Hey, how about you go back to sleep? Get a little more rest?" Sam nodded and lay back down on the bed. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-three," answered Sam as a feverish sleep swept over him.

* * *

_He was walking down a hallway in an abandoned building towards a set of big, double doors. The doors flew open, and he flung his hand out. The blonde in front of him—Lillith, he assumed—flew through the air and slammed into the altar, crumpling to the ground. He flung his hand out again, and she was pinned to the altar behind her._

_He lowered his hand as a heartbeat rang in his ears. It seemed so loud. "I've been waiting for this…for a very long time."_

_Lillith sneered at him. "Then give me your best shot."_

_He raised his hand, palm facing her, and threw his power at her. She lit up from within as the heartbeat in his ears quickened._

"_Sam!"_

_He frowned as the faint voice broke through to him._

"_Sam!"_

_He lowered his hand as the voice called again. He turned towards the doors to find that they had been closed again. Someone was banging on the other side of them and yelling for him._

"_Sammy!"_

_He smiled a little as he recognized the voice. "Dean?"_

_A brunette woman next to him leaned forward, yelling at him. "What are you waiting for?!" Her voice sounded even more distant than Dean's did, and he quickly tuned her out, looking back at the doors, where his brother had come for him. "Now!"_

"_Sam!" Dean yelled._

"_Sam, now!" yelled the brunette._

"_Sam!" Dean yelled as he pounded on the doors._

_Someone was laughing, and it drew his attention completely. He turned towards Lillith, who was laughing at him. The sounds of Dean's voice and the heartbeat quickly deafened in comparison to Lillith's voice._

"_You turned yourself into a freak," laughed Lillith. "A monster. And now you're not gonna bite? I'm sorry, but that is honestly adorable."_

_Rage welled up in him at her taunting, and the heartbeat came back with a vengeance: louder and faster than before. He faced Lillith and raised his hand, throwing her power at him once again. As Lillith lit up again, his vision dimmed. He couldn't be sure, but it looked like a light cloud of black had been thrown over his eyes. Lillith gasped as she lit up, convulsing. The heartbeat quickened to an impossible rate. Lillith gasped several times as she stopped glowing, but then he threw his final power at her. She glowed from within again, and fell to the floor, dead._

_The cloud seemed to lift from his eyes as the heartbeat slowed back to normal. He stared in confusion as blood began pouring from Lillith's mouth. It flowed into the room, drawing a line on the floor._

_He walked towards it. "What the hell?"_

"_I don't believe it…" said the brunette._

"_Ruby, what the hell's going on?" he asked._

_The brunette, Ruby, circled around him, standing next to the flowing blood and staring at Lillith's body. "You did it. I mean, it was a little touch-and-go there for a while, but…you did it."_

"_What?" he said. "What—what did I do?"_

"_You opened the door," said Ruby, awe apparent in her voice. "And now he's free at last. He's free at last!"_

"_No, no, no. No, he—Lillith—I stopped her. I killed her!"_

"_And it is written that the first demon shall be the last seal," said Ruby. His jaw dropped in shock and horror. "And you bust her open. Now guess who's coming to dinner."_

_He circled around Ruby, staring at Lillith's body in disbelief. "Oh, my God."_

"_Guess again," Ruby smirked. The pounding resumed at the double doors. "You don't even know how hard this was! All the demons out for my head. No one knew. I was the best of those sons of bitches! The most loyal! Not even Alistair knew! Only Lillith! Yeah, I'm sure you're a little angry right now. But, I mean, come on, Sam! Even you have to admit—I'm-I'm awesome!"_

"_You bitch," he snarled at her. "You lying…bitch!" He raised his hands to throw his power at her, but nothing happened except a raging headache working through his head. He collapsed to the floor, wincing in pain._

"_Don't hurt yourself, Sammy," said Ruby. "It's useless. You shot your payload on the boss."_

"_The blood…You poisoned me!"_

_Ruby knelt in front of him. "No. It wasn't the blood. It was you…and your choices. I just gave you the options, and you chose the right path every time. You didn't need the feather to fly; you had it in you the whole time, Dumbo. I know it's hard to see it now…but this is a miracle. So long coming. Everything Azazel did, and Lillith did…just to get you here…and you were the only one who could do it."_

"_Why? W-why me?"_

"_Because…" She placed her hands on Sam's face, apparently trying to soothe him. "Because it had to be you, Sammy. It always had to be you. You saved us. You set him free. And he's gonna be grateful. He's gonna repay you in ways that you can't even imagine."_

_The doors behind Ruby burst open, and Dean barged in, carrying a metal pedestal. Ruby stood and faced Dean, who dropped the pedestal and began advancing on Ruby._

"_You're too late," taunted Ruby._

"_I don't care," growled Dean as he drew the knife out of his jacket._

_He stood up behind Ruby, pinning her arms to her side. He could feel her tense in his grip, but Dean was there, stabbing the knife into her gut. She gasped as she lit up. Dean twisted the knife and pulled it out. He let go of her, and she dropped to the floor, dead._

_He looked up at Dean, broken. "I'm sorry."_

_Dean's gaze faltered as he heard that. They felt a violent jolt under their feet, and they looked over towards the circle of blood, which had connected in the middle. Otherworldly light flooded out of the middle of the circle, shooting up towards the ceiling. He stared at the sight in shock as the building began to tremble._

"_Sammy, let's go," said Dean, grabbing at his jacket._

_He grabbed at Dean's jacket, still staring at the light. "Dean…" He couldn't take his eyes off of the sight in front of him. "He's coming…"_

"_Come on!" Dean yelled._

_The two of them ran towards the double doors, which slammed in their faces. He banged on the doors, trying to get them open, but nothing happened. He looked over at Dean, who looked back at him, just as hopeless. The noise behind them grew in pitch as they turned towards the light. As it grew, he squeezed his eyes shut and collapsed onto his knees as the sound grew too loud. He clasped his hands to his ears as the noise climaxed and the light peaked._

* * *

"No!" Sam yelled as his eyes sprang open. He looked over at Dean, who sat on the opposite bed and appeared to be waiting.

"What was it this time?" asked Dean.

Sam took a moment to catch his breath. "Lillith…the convent…"

Dean nodded. "Lucifer."

Sam nodded. "I'm twenty-five."

Dean nodded again, getting up and walking over to the bed. "You're almost there, buddy. Think you can hold on a little longer?" Sam nodded as his eyes drifted closed. "Get some sleep, Sammy." As Sam fell back into sleep, Dean placed a hand on his head. "It's not your fault. I swear to you it's not your fault. I still trust you, Sammy."

* * *

"_Alright, so tell me about this case," said Dean from the driver's seat._

_He grabbed a stack of papers, shuffling through them. "Five people over the past week in Nashville have been admitted to mental hospitals. Doctors are baffled as to why they suddenly went crazy."_

"_So, what, we got a brain-stealing psycho on our hands?" asked Dean._

"_Not sure. I cross-referenced with the local obits and found one that might be our guy."_

"_A ghost?"_

"_Yeah. Dr. Roger Maxfield: a psychiatrist who died of a gunshot when someone tried to mug him. First patient was admitted the next day."_

"_Good enough for me. How far?"_

"_Uh…about three hundred miles."_

_He suddenly found himself in a hospital in front of a man with a doctor's coat on._

"_Was there any indication that this was going to happen?" he asked._

"_No, none," said the doctor. "They were perfectly fine, seemed to be in perfect mental and emotional health. Maybe a little stressed, but no more so than anyone else would be. Then one day, they just changed."_

"_Changed how?" asked Dean._

"_Well…they just sit there," explained the doctor. "They hardly interact with anyone. Most of the time, they stare at you with this intense fascination, as if they've never seen another human being before. They can hardly do anything for themselves."_

_He was suddenly walking through a motel room door to find Dean watching TV._

"_You find anything?" asked Dean._

"_Definitely," he said as he plopped his research onto the table. "So, it looks like we have a pattern. We have the rape and pregnancy with Sandra. Matt Treler was headed to the college basketball championships when he was busted for using steroids. He was kicked off the team, and shunted out of the university. Casey Carmine was getting ready to enter a beauty pageant. She became anorexic to compete with the other girls, and they were just headed to finals. Walter Duncan was up for tenure, but he had an issue with a student that could interfere with his tenure. And the last victim, Peter Basen, had just broken up with his long-term girlfriend. On top of that, his father just went into a coma."_

"_So, all these vics had some major issues," said Dean. "The stress was getting to them. I mean, most of them had horrible stuff happening to them. So maybe, Maxfield senses their stress and tries to help them, but it just ends up with them in the loony bin."_

"_Exactly."_

"_Well, nice job, Dr. Venkman," said Dean. "I'm gonna go get a drink. Want to come?"_

"_No, I think I'll stay here and try to research where the doc is buried," he said as he sat down at the table, pulling out his laptop._

"_Suit yourself," said Dean as he headed out the door._

_He looked through websites, trying to find it, and at last, had an answer. He grabbed a spare sheet of paper on the table and wrote, 'Dr. Roger Maxfield…New Hope Cemetery…plot 421.' He felt a breeze shift through the room, and looked around at the empty room, not noticing anything out of the ordinary. Standing up, he began heading for the small kitchen to get a glass of water when he was flung into the wall. Getting up, he looked up at the middle of the room to see a middle-aged man in a suit standing in front of him. There was a red circle of blood on the front of his shirt, and his skin was pale._

"_Dr. Maxfield…" he muttered._

_The doctor's ghost rushed at him, throwing him onto one of the beds. The ghost put his hands on his head, pinning him to the bed._

"_It's okay," said Maxfield. "I'll make it all better. You won't have to worry anymore."_

_Light shone from Maxfield's hands, and his vision went white as electricity burst through his brain._

* * *

Sam's eyes jolted open, and dozens of images burst through his head: Dean laughing as he banged on the steering wheel of the Impala in time to the music, Sam laughing as he held up a tube of superglue to his brother struggling with a beer bottle on his hand, Dean smiling as he put the new amulet around his neck and looking at it, Dean hanging from the ceiling of a warehouse looking pale and dead, his father laying in a hospital bed as he and Sam yelled it out, his father laughing as he shared the college tuition story with him, and Dean laying in a hospital bed with a tube shoved down his throat.

Sam bolted upright in the bed, staring at the blankets.

"Sam?" asked Dean. "What memory was it?"

"Dean…" said Sam, looking up at his brother. "It's me…I'm back."

Dean stared at him. "Really?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah…"

"Is everything…" Dean started. "Are you okay?"

"Uh…" started Sam. "I just…Can you give me some time?"

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but then nodded. "Yeah, of course."

* * *

Sam sat on a stump in the field where Dean had taken him driving, staring up at the night sky. He wasn't really sure how he was supposed to take this past week. On the one hand, Dean had told him flat out that he let him down. That he had chosen a demon over him and couldn't be trusted. But after this past week, Dean had really shown what he truly felt by taking care of him and watching out for him. And then there was that moment in the motel room after Sam had fought the demon off of his brother.

"_Sure, I trust you."_

Sam couldn't know if that was in reference to driving the Impala or if it was in general. How was he supposed to know for sure?

He heard the Impala's engine drive up behind him, and the driver's door squeaked as it opened.

"There you are," said Dean. "I was looking for you."

Sam looked at him. "Sorry that I ran off. I just needed to—"

"Oh, I'm not mad," said Dean.

"You're not?" asked Sam, frowning.

"No," said Dean as he sat down next to Sam. "You're an adult. You can do what you want. Who am I to tell you what to do?"

Sam narrowed his eyes at him. "Is there sarcasm in that answer?"

Dean chuckled. "No, there isn't."

Sam nodded. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

"Well, a smart little kid told me that I needed to back off…let you grow up."

Sam smiled, remembering what Dean was talking about. "He did, huh?"

"Yeah," said Dean. He looked down at his feet. "If this past week has taught me anything—what with watching you as a little kid—it's that…you aren't a kid anymore. I think I can finally see that now."

"Does that mean you'll quit being protective, calling me Sammy all the time, and lay off teasing me?" smiled Sam.

"Hell, no," said Dean. "I'm your big brother. Being annoying and protective is my job. I can't let you have a perfect life."

Sam laughed. "Good." Dean frowned at him. "Like I said before, just because I want you to back off, doesn't mean I want you to stop being my brother." He looked down at his feet. "Whether you want to or not."

Dean frowned. "Sam, I want to be your brother. Nothing could ever change that. And, yeah, I may not have been able to trust you then, but now…I know that I can."

Something suddenly came back to Sam in that moment.

"_It's not your fault. I swear to you it's not your fault. I still trust you, Sammy."_

Sam smiled. "I know you can. Thanks."

Dean nodded. "What do you say we hit the road? I don't know about you, but I could go with not seeing this town for a while."

"Yeah, yeah," said Sam. "Just one thing first."

* * *

Sam walked into the diner the next day, looking around. He spotted Jessica behind the counter and walked up to her.

"Hey," said Sam.

Jessica turned towards him. "Hey, Sammy."

"Actually, it's just Sam," he told her.

"Oh," said Jessica. "You feeling better?"

"Much," said Sam. "I just wanted you to meet to real Sam."

"Does this mean you're all better?" asked Jessica.

"Definitely. One hundred percent healed."

"That's great to hear."

"I wanted to thank you for everything you did. It was, uh…a rough week."

"Understatement. You had guys beat you, were picked on by more guys, and were rushed to the hospital because you almost died of a food allergy."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, that is a hell of a week. But, it's just another day in our lives."

"So, you and Dean are hitting the road?" asked Jessica.

"Yeah, I think so. After everything, we've kind of had it with this town."

"I know the feeling." Jessica looked over towards the booths. "There's Michael…if you want to say goodbye."

Sam looked over at the five-year-old. "I think I will. Thanks." He walked over towards the booth, where Michael sat playing with some action figures. "Hey, buddy."

Michael looked up at him. "Sammy!" He held up one of his figures. "Wanna play?"

Sam smiled at him. "Not today, kiddo. I just wanted to say bye."

Michael frowned. "Where you going?"

"Away," said Sam. "My brother and I are on a road trip, and have to leave."

"I see you again?" asked Michael.

Sam smiled. "Maybe. I might visit sometime. Bye, Michael."

Michael jumped out of his seat, and hugged Sam around the waist. "Bye, Sammy."

Jessica came over and hugged Sam. "You're really gonna stop by sometime?"

Sam smiled at her. "Definitely. I'll see you around."

"Bye, Sam," said Jessica.

Sam walked out of the diner and got into the Impala. "Okay, now we can go."

Dean smiled at him. "Finally." He peeled out of the parking lot and hit the road.

**The End**


	15. Chapter 15

**WARNING!**

**Public service announcement!**

I am not quitting fanfiction! I am currently working on printing and binding my current stories for my storage. When I am finished with that, I will work on my stories again.

I will first do a songfic (my first one). Then a season three story. Then a mermaid story. Then Don't You Cry No More 3. Then The Winchester That Wasn't 2. I'm excited about all of them!

I'll see you guys in a few weeks!


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